


We Accept The Love (We Think We Deserve)

by filmfanatic82



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Car Accidents, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Endgame Clarke Griffin/Lexa, F/F, F/M, Friendship/Love, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Genderqueer Character, Love Confessions, Major Character Injury, Past Finn Collins/Clarke Griffin, Past Finn Collins/Raven Reyes, Past Relationship(s), Serious Injuries, non-binary
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-29
Updated: 2019-05-02
Packaged: 2019-06-18 04:54:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 21,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15478110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/filmfanatic82/pseuds/filmfanatic82
Summary: Five years after their love and friendships imploded, Clarke, Lexa,  Raven, and Octavia find their lives once again entangled with each other as they grapple with the immediate aftermath of a life-changing accident.





	1. Clarke (I)

_ Love. _   


_ It’s the only word fitting enough to describe the powerful sensation flooding through Clarke’s veins.  _

_ Infinite love. _

_ Not the cheesy, bad rom-com type of love. Or the one mentioned in almost every single pop song ever written.  _

_ No, this kind of love is the one that materializes over time. Built upon thousands and thousands of minuscule moments, which seem insignificant by themselves, but when placed side by side, paint a picture of something…  _

_ Something that just cannot be summed up in mere words alone. _

_ It’s a once in a lifetime kind of love.  _

_ A sly smile slides across Clarke’s lips as she watches Lexa peacefully sleep in the comforting confines of her arms. It’s well past the time they need to be getting up in order not to be late for school, but she can’t seem to bring herself to move. Not when Clarke’s able to endless partakes in her favorite pastime in the entire world… Not when it comes to the woman she loves. _

_ “What time is it?” Lexa gently stirs, shifting her body closer towards Clarke.  _

_ “Mornin’ baby,” Clarke replies with a deep, sleep-latten husk. She wraps her arms a bit tighter around Lexa. “You sleep okay?” _

_ “Yeah. You?” Lexa goes to reach for her phone on the nearby nightstand but is pulled back by Clarke. “Clarke…” _

_ “What?” Clarke peppers Lexa with feather-light kisses along the outline of her jaw and down the slope of her neck.  _

_ “You know what.” _

_ “No clue what you’re talkin’ about,” Clarke says as she pushes Lexa against the bed and swings her leg over Lexa’s hips, with expert-like precision. She runs her nails down Lexa’s rock hard abs at a painfully slow pace. The Cheshire grin on Clarke’s face says it all… She’s a woman on a mission. _

_ “Clarke, we’re gonna be late.” _

_ “Not if we keep it quick.” Clarke rolls her hips against Lexa, punctuating her point. _

_ “My mom…” _

_ “Won’t hear a thing. Unless you can’t control yourself again.” _

_ “That wasn’t my fault,” Lexa whines in response, fighting the overwhelming urge to give in. “You didn’t play fair.” _

_ Clarke gives a throaty laugh and runs her hands through her long wild mane of blonde curls. “Who said there were rules?” _

_ Lexa lets out a sigh and then with a newfound resolution, grabs hold of Clarke’s waist and flips their positions, pinning Clarke to the bed in the process. “If we’re late 1st period again, I’m making you explain why to Mr. Thomas.”  _

_ “Deal.”  _

_ With that, Lexa leans in and goes to work, marking her emotions along the curves of Clarke’s body. _

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Clarke vacantly stares up at the ceiling, face devoid of any real emotions whatsoever. She watches the late night shadows dances about as the sounds of deep, rhythmic breathing fills the room. 

Suddenly, the covers around Clarke shift and an arm haphazardly drapes across her body, in almost an attempt to cuddle.

Clarke glances down at the arm, lets out a weighted sigh, and then without any hesitation, removes it from her body as if it belongs to a complete and utter stranger. She slips out of the covers and starts to fish around in the dark for her clothes.

“Clarke, it’s late. You should stay,” Niylah mutters in a half-awake daze. 

“Can’t. I’ve got a paper due and am supposed to be sitting in on Dr. Jackson’s .” Clarke replies. She pulls her white v-neck over her heads, then runs her hands through her short, messy locks. “Plus, you know I don’t do that.”

“But you could. It doesn’t have to mean anything. Just sleep.”

“Niylah…”

Niylah sighs in quiet resignation. “Text me when you get home, ok?” 

“Yeah.” Clarke finishes slipping on her shoes and, without another look back, heads towards the bedroom door. 

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Clarke pops open the door to her apartment and unceremoniously deposits her keys into the nearby bowl. She starts to move to slip off her shoes, when--

BUZZ… BUZZ… BUZZ… 

Thrown off, Clarke stops what she’s doing and fishes out her phone from her back pocket. A look of utter confusion sweep across her face as she studies the screen for a moment or two, internally debating on whether or not to answer it. 

BUZZ… BUZZ… BUZZ… 

“What, Bell?” Clarke flat out asks with a tinge of underlying annoyance to her voice as she answers the phone. 

“Hi to you too, Princess.” Bellamy’s voice answers back, perfectly matching Clarke’s tone, but in a mocking sort of way. “Someone’s extra chipper today.”

A hint of a smile slips through Clarke’s emotionless mask at these words. Leave it to Bellamy. One of the few individuals in her life that can make her smile regardless of the situation or mood. 

Ever since the first time they met, in a long hospital corridor, back when Clarke was 12 years old. Bellamy with his unruly mop of curls and dimple clad smile. He was at one of the lowest points of his young life, having just received the news that his mother only had a few weeks left to live, and yet he spent a good hour or so trying to cheer Clarke up with corny jokes and obscure historical facts. 

“That’s cause it’s 2:30 in the morning,” Clarke replies. She drops the rest of her stuff and makes her way into the kitchen. “What time is it there? And where is there?”

“There is Berlin, and it’s 11:30.” 

“Berlin? Thought you and Gina were sticking around Reykjavik for a while?” Clarke says as she opens the fridge, pulls out a beer, and then searches for a bottle opener.

“We did. Were there for almost four months.”

“Shit. That was four months ago?”

“Five.” Bellamy chuckles in response. “But who’s counting.”

“I suck. What else is new.” Clarke takes a much-needed swig of beer as a familiar silence creeps in between them for the briefest of moments.

She knows this silence. It’s the silence that makes Clarke’s skin crawl with guilt and regret. The guilt of not making more of an effort to stay in touch… Especially with someone that in all accounts is her older brother. Not by blood but by having grown up together under the same roof for the better half of the past decade or so. 

“I didn’t call for that,” Bellamy softly replies in his default brotherly tone.

“Then what’s going on?”

Bellamy lets out a long sigh, and Clarke swears she can hear him rubbing the back of his neck. “Abby called me.”

“What did Mommy Dearest want now?”

“Clarke…”

Clarke takes another swig of her beer, downing almost half of the bottle in one long gulp. “Sorry. What did Abby want?”

“O’s missing.” 

Clarke immediately stiffens at these words as a wave of visible concern washes over her. “What’d you mean she’s missing?” 

“Dunno. Abby called me a few hours ago saying that she hasn’t heard from her in over three weeks and she isn’t picking up her phone. Or responding to texts.” 

“Did she try Lincoln? He always seems to know--”

“Yeah. He hasn’t seen her in six months.” Bellamy responds, cutting Clarke off. 

“Huh? What do you…” Clarke trails off, trying to make sense of Bellamy’s words. “How has he not seen her? They live together?”

“Clarke, when’s the last time you talked to her?”

“Last month. I called her to check in, and she said everything was going fine.”

“No. I mean really  **talked** to her.”

Clarke stiffens. “Bell, what are you implying?” 

“Nothing. You know I don’t mean it that way. Just think that O’s been telling us what we want to hear,” Bellamy says with a bit of underlying trepidation.

A momentary awkward silence seeps in again between the two of them, then--

“I’ll go check a few of her usual places. If I can’t track her down, then I’ll swing by home and see what Abby wants to do.”

“Thanks, Clarke,” Bellamy responds. “Just keep me posted, okay?” 

“Sure thing.”

“Miss you, Princess.”   

“Miss you too, Bell. Bye.” Clarke hangs up and then takes a moment to finish her beer and sort through her thoughts.

This isn’t the first time Clarke’s gotten a call like this. But usually, it comes in the form of a voicemail from her mother, in between her shifts at the hospital. And nine times out of time, O’s fine. Just avoiding Abby, like Clarke tends to do. 

Avoidance is just easier. And Clarke’s become a pro at it.    

With one more swig, Clarke places the empty bottle down and grabs her phone again. She quickly dials and suddenly--

BUZZ… BUZZ… BUZZ…

Clarke freezes at the sound of a phone ringing in the nearby distance. It’s coming from somewhere in her apartment. She immediately pockets her phone and heads out of the kitchen.

Not even two steps into the hallway and Clarke spots it. The telltale sign that O is residing somewhere in her apartment. A pair of beat-up black vans-- O’ signature shoes-- lay haphazardly across the floor, looking to have been kicked off in the process of heading toward Clarke’s bedroom.

“O?” Clarke calls out and waits for a moment. 

No response. 

Clarke lets out a weighted sigh and then without another moment of hesitation, carefully opens her bedroom.

There, buried beneath a mound of covers and pillow, lays Octavia, passed out and dead to the world. 

Clarke pulls her phone out of her back pocket once again and dials. “Hey, Bell. It’s me. Just wanted to let you know that I found her. She’s passed out in my bed. I’ll have her call you when she gets…”

Clarke trails off as something catches her eye. She cautiously navigates her way through the darkened bedroom, never once taking her eyes off of the younger girl sleeping before her. 

Although the room is only barely lit up by the hallway light, it’s enough to reveal that Octavia’s face is peppered with an array of fresh cuts and bruises. She isn’t in the best of shape. 

“Fuck, O,” Clarke whispers under her breath as she takes a seat on the edge of the bed and ever so gently rubs the back of O’s hand. She swallows down the lump of emotions growing in the back of her throat as she looks on at the person who she considers to be her little sister. “What the hell happened to you?” 


	2. O (I)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Get dressed,” Raven responds, not missing a beat. 
> 
> “But I thought…” Octavia trails off, taking a moment or two to study the jeans and t-shirt that Raven threw at her. It’s precisely the same outfit that she had been planning to grab from Bell’s closet.
> 
> “If you’re gonna be my breakfast date, then you need to look the part.” Raven shoots Octavia a suggestive smirk as she gathers up a few of her belongings and then heads towards the bedroom door. “And wear your hair up, Blake. It looks better that way.”  
> \---------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
> O's POV

_It’s one of those days._

_Octavia knows it before she’s even had a chance to open her eyes. It’s hard to put into words exactly how she knows this. Or what **it** really is. _

_All Octavia knows is… It’s just there._

_It comes in numerous forms. Each time, more intense than the last. Sometimes it’s a dull gnawing sensation in depths of her stomach as if something isn’t right. And other times, it feels as if her own skin is slowly suffocating the life right out of her._

_Regardless, though, on days like these, it makes functioning, let alone paying attention through eight hours of school, practically impossible._

_Octavia peels herself out of bed and takes a moment to get her bearings. The thought of faking sick briefly crosses her mind, but then she remembers that her dad is away on a business trip in Chicago, and her mom never lets any of them stay home from school. Not unless they are either critically injured or on death’s doorstep._

_Abby once even sent Clarke to school with a low-grade fever, just because she didn’t want her to miss a biology exam._

_No. There’s no way out of it. Not today. Octavia just has to suck it up and pray that it doesn’t get any worse._

_Octavia lets out a lengthy sigh, pulls her hair up into a messy bun, and then forces herself to make her way out of her bedroom. She heads down the hallway, briefly stopping for a moment in front of Clarke’s bedroom door, listening for the usual morning sounds of her older sister getting ready for school. But there’s nothing. Only silence._

_Clarke must be at Lexa’s again. It’s the only reason she would come home._

_Octavia continues to make her way towards the bathroom, but then suddenly stops in front of Bellamy’s bedroom as an idea emerges from the deep recesses of her mind. She carefully pushes open the door and slips inside._

_Bell isn’t due back from college for another three weeks. More than enough for Octavia to raid his “only wear when back in Cali” clothes that he left in his closet, wash them, and return them without him knowing any better._

_Octavia heads straight across the room towards the closet and just as she reaches for the door--_

_“You know you’d make a horrible assassin,” Raven mumbles, her voice still thick with sleep._

_“Shit!” Octavia jumps backward from the closet, in shock and spins around to spot Raven laying in Bellamy’s bed. “Jesus Rae. What are you doing here?”_

_“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?” Raven responds as she pushes herself up in the bed and produces her signature smirk._

_“I live here.”_

_“Technically, I do too. Just depends on if my mom has one of her 'friend of the week' over.”_

_Octavia softens at these words. “Who's it this time?”_

_Raven gives a shrug. “Doesn't matter.”_

_“You should’ve crashed in Clarke’s bed. Way comfier than Bell’s,” Octavia sits down on the edge of the bed and starts to fidget a bit with the frayed hem of her shirt, desperate for a distraction. Any distraction… From it._

_“Clarke at Lexa’s again?” Raven questions as she drags herself out of bed._

_Octavia nods in response, triggering a bit of a laugh from Raven. She watches as Raven then makes her way directly towards the closet and starts to rummage through the sea of jeans and t-shirts. “I love your sister, but the girl needs to learn to keep it in her pants. Abby’s gonna up and ship her to Siberia if she catches her sneaking in again.”_

_“She won’t. Mom got called in last night. Emergency surgery or something.”_

_“How you getting to school?” Raven holds up a pair of jeans, studying them for a moment, then discards them in the bottom of the closet and grabs another._

_“Dunno,” Octavia mumbles, full concentration still on the edge of her shirt. A momentary silence settles in the room, and then--_

_BAM._

_Octavia gets blindsided by a face full of clothes. “What the--”_

_“Get dressed,” Raven responds, not missing a beat._

_“But I thought…” Octavia trails off, taking a moment or two to study the jeans and t-shirt that Raven threw at her. It’s precisely  the same outfit that she had been planning to grab from Bell’s closet._

_“If you’re gonna be my breakfast date, then you need to look the part.” Raven shoots Octavia a suggestive smirk as she gathers up a few of her belongings and then heads towards the bedroom door. “And wear your hair up, Blake. It looks better that way.”_

_A small but noticeable smile crawls across Octavia’s face as she watches Raven disappear out of the bedroom and down the hallway._

_Raven always seems to know just how to make things better._

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

“Hello?” O cautiously calls out as they push the apartment front door open and slip inside. They wait for a moment or two for a response, but only silence greets them.

O lets out a heavy sigh of relief and then carefully shuts the door, making sure to lock it as they do. Their body instantly gives way, finally succumbing to the vast array of still fresh cuts and bruises, and all O can do is slide themselves down the back of door until they are resting on the floor.

Going to Grounders had been a stupid move. Then again, most of their moves lately in retrospect seemed to be stupid. So much so, that it should be their middle name.

O reaches up and instinctively runs their hand back and forth over the freshly shorn stubble on the back of their head.

The hair, though, hadn’t been a stupid move. No. It had been the best decision they had made in the last six months. Of course, it hadn’t been the easiest of decisions. O had loved their long hair. Sure, they almost exclusively wore it in a ponytail or a messy bun. But it was, in some ways, their security blanket. The one constant in their ever-changing world.

But even pulled back into the most gender-neutral of ponytails, their hair tended to cause people to see one thing and one thing only whenever they looked at them… A girl.

So, early one morning, O gathered all of the confidence they could muster, marched themselves into a remote barbershop on the outskirts of town, sat down in the first available chair, and asked for an undercut.

At first, the barber had flat out refused, stating that they didn’t do girls hair and that if “she” wanted something like that then “she” could go next door to the salon. But O didn’t want to “go to a salon”. Nor were they going to let someone else dictate what they could and couldn’t have… Not anymore.

Without a hint of emotions whatsoever, O once again told the barber that “they” wanted an undercut and then, to even further hammer home their request, they pointed up to a photo on the wall of a man sporting a skin-tight undercut with a short topknot. After that, the barber didn’t put any more of a fight. He merely fastened the cape around O’s neck, popped the clippers to life, and began to work.

No. The haircut had been one of the few smart decisions that O has made… if not the only smart one.

O slowly rolls their neck from side to side in a feeble attempt to alleviate the ever-growing wave of pain pulsating through their body. Everything hurts. Not in a “need to call an ambulance” sort of way. Nothing is broken. Thank god for that. The pain is more akin to what they used to feel after they spared with Lincoln during one of their countless Krav Maga sessions.

It’s the kind of pain that comes as a result of a fight. Not necessarily a wanted fight… but a fight nonetheless.

All O had wanted at Grounders was a drink or two. And maybe a shot of something cheap, if they played their cards right. Their funds had been running low for a while now. Not dangerously low. But low enough that they weren’t able to afford to piss away their extra cash on alcohol.

It had been one of those weeks again. A week where O found themselves questioning everything they had done over the past few years. Every last regret and mistake. Including the biggest one of their life. The one that transpired the day after Murphy’s infamous house party. Back when O was still able to call Raven Reyes a friend.

O knew precisely what they were doing when they walked into Grounders. Spot a gullible looking individual at the bar, strike up a friendly conversation with them, maybe flirt a bit, and if everything worked according to plan, would score a free drink. But what they hadn’t accounted for, though, was the neanderthal of a boyfriend who decided to show up after their next round of drinks.

The fight happened quick. Too quick for O’s liking. There were a few words exchanged, and then before O knew it, the neanderthal’s fist plowed straight into their nose at full force. And that’s all it took for them to unleash years worth of pent-up rage and anger upon the hulking body before them.

It wasn’t a fair fight. Not by far. But then again, how was the neanderthal supposed to know he was messing with someone who had spent the last four years studying almost every fighting style known to man?

Of course, O didn’t walk away unscathed. He did manage to get in a few good punches and thanks to his ring, left a series of scratches and cuts along the surface of their skin. This wasn’t an easy fight. Nor one they would bounce back from any time soon.

O lets out another sigh and then with sudden burst of strength, pushes themselves up off of the ground, wincing in pain as they do. They stumble their way down the hallway towards Clarke’s bedroom as they fight off the overwhelming desire just to succumb to sleep right then and there.

O knows they can’t pass out in the hallway. No. Clarke is already going to lose her shit when she comes home and finds them in the state that they are. No need to add fuel to the fire. Not tonight.

They drag their limbs the few extra feet, kick off their shoes before entering Clarke’s bedroom, and then collapse face first down upon the soft expanse of welcoming blankets and pillows, finally giving in to the darkness.

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Fuck!” O exclaims as a sudden stinging sensation rips them right out of their dreamless sleep. They start to sit up but instantly are pushed back down by Clarke.

“Hold still.”

“Clarke, what are you--”

“Hold still, O,” Clarke cuts O off while dabbing their face with a disinfectant-soaked gauze pad. “I need to clean these out, or their gonna get infected.”

O squirms under Clarke’s touch, wincing every time the gauze makes contact with one of their open wounds. “Trying to. But it hurts like a bitch.”

“Yeah. I bet.” Clarke pauses for a brief moment from cleaning up O’s face and lets out a light sigh. “Wanna tell me what happened?”

“I got into a fight.”

“No shit. With who?”

“I dunno.”

“You don’t know?” Clarke says with an underlying tone of sheer disbelief.

“Clarke…”

“Octavia…”

O recoils at the sound of their name. Their full name. The name that hasn’t felt right for more years than they’d like to admit.

“Can you not call me that?” O mumbles in a voice more than a whisper as their eyes drift away from Clarke’s soul-piercing stare.

“Call you Octavia?”

“Yeah.”

An unsettling silence falls upon the bedroom for a moment or two as O continues to attempt to avoid having to look Clarke in the face. They know if they do then they'll be no holding back on the conversation that needs to occur. And truthfully, O just not entirely sure they're ready. At least not tonight.

Suddenly, O feels the bed dip down beside them, and the familiar embrace of their older sister as Clarke’s arms engulf them in a gentle but firm hug.

“Scoot over,” Clarke says as she snuggles up closer to O. “You've always been such a bed hog.”

“Am not.”

“Huh-uh.” Clarke reaches up and lovingly traces the edges of O’s undercut with her fingertips. “When did you get this done?”

“Last week.”

“Looks good.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. It suits you. Mom’s gonna flip though when she sees it.”

O groans a bit in response and buries their head deeper into the pillow. “Don’t remind me.”

Another moment of silence passes between the two of them, and then--

“I'm glad you're here,” Clarke says with the last of her words getting jumbled up in a yawn.

“Me too.” O feels Clarke shift once again signifying that she’s only moments away from sleep and breathes a small sigh of relief. For now, the conversation can wait.

“Night O.”

A small but noticeable smile spreads across O’s face at the sound of their name. They curl themselves even further into Clarke’s body and once again let sleep wash over them. “Night Clarke.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Monday!
> 
> First off a disclaimer: I'm not non-binary, so if I've misrepresented anything and/or offended anyone please just let me know. 
> 
> Secondly, I know this isn't a HUGE leap forward plot wise, but felt like it was needed in order to understand a little better what's been going on with O. 
> 
> Love hearing your thoughts / feedback so feel free to comment away.
> 
> Enjoy!


	3. Raven (I)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It shouldn’t be a big deal. Deep down she knows that. But still… still, it’s terrifying. Especially after witnessing first hand what Clarke had to struggle through once the news got out. 
> 
> All she thinks about is the looks. The looks and words. From people at school. From her friends. From her mother… and most importantly from Octavia.  
> \---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
> Raven's POV

_ All she has to do is avoid him. _

_ Should be simple enough. Especially since, more often than not, he tends to skip first period. _

_ Get in. Hit up her locker. Grab her organic chem textbook and then head straight to Sinclair’s class before the hallways get too crowded. Or she gets sidetracked by one of the usuals.  _

_ Easier than resembling the engine block on a 1973 Pontiac Firebird. _

_ Raven exhales a deep breath of air and then beelines straight for her locker at the other end of the hallway.  _

_ It’s not that she’s scared of facing him. Hell, she’s faced a million and one temperamental assholes in her life thanks to her mom’s inability to stay sober. That part’s a walk in the park. _

_ No. It’s not about that.  _

_ She just can’t handle the look. Seeing it once upon his face after revealing the hidden truth that she’s known about herself for a while now was more than enough. She doesn’t need to see it again. Nor risk the chance of seeing it on anyone else’s face either. _

_ It shouldn’t be a big deal. Deep down she knows that. But still… still, it’s terrifying. Especially after witnessing first hand what Clarke had to struggle through once the news got out.  _

_ All she thinks about is the looks. The looks and words. From people at school. From her friends. From her mother… and most importantly from Octavia. _

_ “Hey, Rae! No coffee?” Clarke emerges from the general flow of hallway traffic and bounces her way right up to Raven’s locker. _

_ “No. Already had some at Blue’s,” Raven responds as she continues to swap her books from her locker to beat up backpack. _

_ “You went to Blue’s? Why didn’t you call me?” _

_ “Cause I knew were too busy perfecting your reverse cowgirl with Commander Heart Eyes.” _

_ “Raven!” Clarke glances around them for any signs of listening ears and then gives Raven a friendly but firm shove in the shoulder. “I told you--” _

_ “You only do it doggie style,” Raven cuts Clarke off with a slightly devilish but still lovable smirk.  _

_ “You’re the worst.”  _

_ “Don’t you mean best?”  _

_ Clarke tucks a loose blonde curl behind her ear and lets out a bit of a sigh. “So you went to Blue’s by yourself?” _

_ “Nope. Had an impromptu breakfast date.” _

_ “With who? Finn?” _

_ Raven ever so slightly recoils at the sound of his name, but then quickly recovers before Clarke can notice it. “Nah. Someone even better… Your little sis.” _

_ “Ugh. Can you please not refer to hanging out with Octavia as a date?” _

_ “What? We all know she’s the all-around better Blake. Well maybe with the exception of Bellamy's...” _

_ Clarke clamps her hand down on Raven’s mouth, preventing her from finish her sentence. “Don’t you dare.” _

_ Raven’s smile grows even wider, more than amused with herself. “Relax, Griffin. I’m just kidding.” _

_ “Better not let Finn hear you talking like that. You know how gets whenever someone mentions Bell.” _

_ “I’m no longer worrying about Finn,” Raven replies in a rushed exhale of air. She subconsciously picks up the pace, cramming the last of her textbooks into her locker. _

_ Clarke studies her for a moment or two, trying her best to decipher the hidden meaning behind those words and then finally-- _

_ “You okay?” _

_ Raven pauses for a moment as the tiniest hint of fear flickers across her face. She avoids Clarke’s penetrating blue eyes like the plague. Just one glance and the truth will come spilling out. Raven more than knows it. Clarke’s her Achilles heel. _

_ But the moment passes, and Raven pushes back down her ever-growing fear and anxiety, replacing it with her signature confident smile instead.  _

_ “When am I not?” _

_ “Rae, you know you can--” _

_ “I’m fine, Clarke. Promise.” Raven shuts her locker and then flips her back from one shoulder to another in a telltale sign that she’s done with the conversation. “See you at lunch?” _

_ “Yeah. Sure thing.”  _

_ “Cool. Catch ya later.” Raven doesn’t wait for Clarke to respond before taking off, hastily disappearing into the sea of students. _

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

“Yeah. I ran the new reports and left them on your desk… No. Not there… Look by your coffee mug… Yup. Green folder… Great. Just call if there are any questions… You too, Monty. Later.” Raven slips her cell phone into the pocket of her beloved red leather jacket and then deposits her motorcycle helmet and keys on the nearby foyer table. She pauses for a moment, listening for any telltale signs that she isn’t alone, but only silence greets her back.

Raven breathes a light sigh of relief. Not that she wants to be alone. Quite the contrary. She would more than kill to come home after working for almost 36 hours straight in the lab and curl up with the woman she loves, but that’s just not an option… At least it hasn’t been for a good eight months now. 

Not since Anya got placed on indefinite administrative leave from the force and entered a never-ending cycle of self-pity fueled drinking and blackout fits of rage with a few remorseful respites of sobriety peppered in between.

Raven knows deep down that it’s well past the point of it being a temporary phase. That one of these days, possibly sooner rather than later, it’s going to lead to something worse. Something that might be irreversible.

But then again, denial is merely a more comfortable land to reside in than having to face the cold, harsh truth.

Raven makes her way into the kitchen and instantly spots the empty handle of whiskey sitting on the counter. 

“Fuckin’ hell,” Raven mutters under her breath, as she reaches for the bottle, giving it a once over in the process, and then chucking it into the trash can, with a little bit too much force. The bottle clangs against the metal bottom, sending a less than pleasant reverberation throughout the confines of the room.

“Look who finally came home,” Anya announces with the ever so slightest hint of a slur to her words. 

Raven takes a moment to collect herself, before turning around to greet Anya. “Sorry baby. We had another mini fire drill. Someone fucked up the last data set and Monty, and I had to pull another all-nighter just to run the numbers again.”

“Thanks for the heads up,” Anya fires back. She makes her way into the kitchen, barely stopping to acknowledge Raven’s presence, and heads straight for the fridge. 

“I texted you.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“Yeah, I did.” Raven pulls her phone out of her jacket pocket, swipes the screen, and drops it down on the counter in front of Anya. “10:47pm last night.”

Anya emerges from the fridge with a carton of orange juice in hand and proceeds an extra long swig straight from it, completely ignoring the phone altogether. “So are you still coming with me?”

“Yeah. I said I would.” 

Anya nods in response and then, without another word, stumbles her way back out of the kitchen, chugging down the rest of the orange juice as she does.

A deafening silence creeps back into the room, crashing down upon Raven. It invades every inch of her thoughts, triggering the all too familiar playback loop of their most recent exchange.

Without a doubt, Raven can’t keep ignoring the truth for too much longer.

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

“Ahn, slow down.” Raven uncomfortably shifts in the passenger seat, hands checking her seat belt buckle for the twentieth time in the last five minutes. 

“What?” Anya responds, unable to hide her annoyance.

“You’re flying.”

“Am not.”

“You’re doing 54 in a 35.”

Instead of responding, Anya pushes a little bit harder on the gas, causing Raven to let out a noticeable sigh in frustration. 

“What time did you say we’d be there?” Raven asks. She runs her hands over her ponytail, trying desperately to change the energy flowing within the car. 

“10:30.”

Raven glances down at her watch. “It’s 10:25. Want me to text her and say we’re running late?”

“You still have her number?”

“Yeah.”

“Interesting.” Anya glance over with a slightly cocked eyebrow. “Clarke know?”

“What’d you think?” Raven replies voice laced with sarcasm. She can feel her patience start to go as a whisper of a voice from the depths of her mind pleads to let it go. But she can’t. Enough with the kid gloves. Raven’s running on nothing fumes and caffeine. 

Raven lets a silence settle between the two of them for a moment or two, then--

“Does Lexa know you’ve been put on leave?”

Anya’s knuckles immediately whiten as her hands wrap themselves tightly around the steering wheel. “No.”

“Interesting.”

“Are you going to act like this the entire time?”

“Like what?”

Anya pulls her eyes off of the road, staring Raven down with nothing but pure and utter hatred. “A raging bitch.”

Raven’s jaw clenches as Anya’s words hit her dead on. It isn’t the first time she’s heard it. Far from it. Over the past few months, Anya has become nothing short of a connoisseur of names. Each one, cutting ever so slightly deeper than the last. But usually-- 

Raven never finishes her thought. 

The last thing she remembers is the sudden explosion of shattering glass and crumpling metal and Anya’s blood-curdling screams before the world goes dark around her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter took a bit longer than expected but am planning to pick up the pace from here on out. 
> 
> Enjoy!


	4. Lexa (I)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Although she’s been back for almost four months now, the majority of her surroundings still feels utterly foreign at best. Not that Lexa hasn’t tried to adjust. She’s more than made it her mission to familiarize herself with her new found home, frequently local coffee shops and parks during her precious few hours of downtime in between her long days at the firm. But still…
> 
> It doesn’t feel like home.
> 
> Then again, nowhere has. Not since Lexa packed her bags and boarded a plane for the other side of the world.  
> \-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
> Lexa deals with an unexpected run in with the one person she isn't quite ready to see again.

48 hours.

Technically 47 hours and 35 minutes. But not that Lexa is counting. No. Of course not. She’s not the type that would actively avoid making the most significant decision of the life by counting down the minutes until the ever-looming deadline. 

No. She’s not that type of person.

Lexa’s eyes wander over towards the large clock above the classroom door for the 50th time since the start of the period. 

47 hours and 34 minutes.

“Miss Woods,” Dr. Kane calls out from the front of the room. 

Lexa snaps out of her thoughts, instantly aware that all eyes -- including the pair of crystal blues ones residing beside her -- are focused in on her. 

“Sorry. Can you repeat the question?” Lexa asks as she straightens herself up in her chair and attempts to pull herself together.

“I was asking if anyone had any thoughts in regards to whether or not Edward the VII made the right decision to abdicate the throne to marry Wallis Simpson?”

Lexa swallows thickly. Such an ironically poignant question to be asked… especially given her current conundrum. The choice of love versus one’s preordained destiny. Two critically vital components of one’s life that should never have to be pitted against each other.

Future versus happiness. 

How is one supposed to make such a weighted decision without never once wondering if they’ve chosen correctly? 

Or maybe there isn’t a correct choice at all? 

“Lexa?” 

Lexa exhales and starts to open her mouth to respond, when suddenly--

The sound of a bell ringing cuts through the silence of the classroom, signifying the end of the period and is immediately followed by a chorus of chairs scraping against tile and notebooks being shoved into backpacks

“Saved by the bell,” Kane says with a hint of a smile. “Remember. Quiz this Friday so I would highly recommend rereading chapters three and four if you haven’t already… Oh, and Lexa? Can you stay back for a moment?”

Lexa freezes upon these words and slowly looks up, catching Kane’s eyes. And instantly…

She knows what the conversation will be about. It’s the same conversation Lexa has been strategically ducking and dodging for the last three weeks now. Ever since the day that the letter arrived and dropped a Hiroshima level bomb into her well mapped out plans for her future. 

“Want me to stay with you?” Clarke asks gently reaching out and touching Lexa’s arm. 

“No. It’s alright. I’ll meet you in the cafeteria.” Lexa forces a smile that just falls short of her eyes.

Clarke hesitates for a moment or two, almost as if she knows something’s not right, but then lets it go and plants a small but loving kiss on Lexa’s lips. “Okay, baby. See you in a few.”

Lexa nods in response and watches as Clarke gathers up the rest of her belongings and heads out of the classroom with the rest of the students.

“She doesn’t know, does she?” Kane’s voice once again pulls Lexa out of the depths of her own thoughts.

“No,” Lexa exhales as she turns her attention back towards Kane. 

“You know, you’re going to want to tell her soon. Regardless of what you end up deciding.”

“I know.” Lexa pauses for a moment, teeth sinking into the flesh of her bottom lip. 

Of course, Lexa knows. It’s the one thought that’s been plaguing her every waking moment for the last few weeks now. Every single time her eyes set upon those icy blue orbs and wild mane of blonde curls. 

It’s the first -- and only --- secret Lexa has ever willing kept from the girl she’s come to realize is her soulmate and with each and every minute that passes, it eats away at her soul just a little bit more.

“I don’t want to tell you what to do Lexa, but this is truly a once in a lifetime kind of opportunity. A full scholarship to Cambridge University by itself is highly impressive. Not to mention, the added offer of spending the next six months studying besides the leading world’s expert in Global Economics.”

“You sound just like my father.”

“Let me guess. He wants you to accept the offer?”

“If it were up to him, I would already be on a plane to London.”

Kane lets out a hint of a laugh as his eyes ever so slightly soften. He moves around his desk, cutting the distance between himself and Lexa, and then places a warm fatherly hand down upon her shoulder. “And if it were truly up to you?”

Lexa takes a moment, mulling over the thousands of conflicting thoughts dancing around the confines of her mind. Her hand subconsciously wanders towards the small emerald green tree shaped pendant hidden just beneath the collar of her t-shirt and wraps her fingers around it. 

A tiny but constant reminder of why she has yet to make a decision.

“I don’t know,” Lexa answers in nothing more than a whisper. Kane gives her a light, but caring squeeze on her shoulder speaking volumes without ever uttering a word in response. It isn’t much, but at that very moment, it’s all the reassurance Lexa’s needs.

47 hours and 18 minutes.  

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

10 more minutes.

Just 10 more minutes and then she’ll call it quits. 

Lexa’s muscles scream in agony as her feet pounds against the concrete pavement matching the rhythm of the song that blasts through her earbuds beat for beat. It’s her ritual. Every morning at promptly at 6 am, regardless of the weather or how Lexa’s feeling. Run until her legs give away, and her lungs burst into flames. 

Run until there’s nowhere left to run.

Lexa rounds the corner and slows down her pace for a brief second, attempting to figure out which way to head next. 

Although she’s been back for almost four months now, the majority of her surroundings still feels utterly foreign at best. Not that Lexa hasn’t tried to adjust. She’s more than made it her mission to familiarize herself with her new found home, frequently local coffee shops and parks during her precious few hours of downtime in between her long days at the firm. But still… 

It doesn’t feel like home. 

Then again, nowhere has. Not since Lexa packed her bags and boarded a plane for the other side of the world. 

Lexa spots a park in the nearby distance and without another moment's hesitation, picks back up her gruel pace and heads towards it. As she approaches the entrance, though, she can’t help but notice two teenage girls tucked away within the shade of a large palm tree. One blonde and one brunette. Their limbs are seamlessly entwined with one another, like two conjoining puzzle pieces, while they exchange a series of stolen glances as they each busy themselves in their phones.  

The moment isn’t anything special and yet…

The all too familiar sense of guilt wraps itself around Lexa’s chest with a vise-like grip, growing tighter and tighter with each and every passing second. 

God, she hates this feeling. 

It isn’t the first time this has happened. No. During Lexa’s first year at Cambridge, it would happen at least ten times a week. And would be triggered by anything. Anything at all that reminded her of--

Lexa needs to run… And now.   

As if compelled by some invisible force, Lexa’s legs go from zero to sixty, beating against the pavement at an almost unbearable pace. She drives her body to move faster… harder… blindly heading forwards with no real destination nor direction. 

Just run.

It’s the only trick Lexa’s knows to keep the ever crippling guilt at bay.

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

A few hours and an extra long, scalding hot shower later, and Lexa finds herself tucked away in a corner booth of the random brunch spot that according to Anya is “the only place in a thirty-mile radius that knows how to make a decent bacon egg and cheese sandwich”. She flips through a case file, re-reading the same page over and over again, unable to focus in on anything but the ever-growing queasiness sensation in the depths of her stomach. 

Meeting Anya for breakfast isn’t the issue. No. Lexa has met up with her sister at least a dozen or so times now since moving back to the states. 

It’s who Anya is bringing that’s causing Lexa to be hit with an almost suffocating wave of anxiety. 

She should’ve listened to that ever-present pragmatic voice buried deep down in the depths of her brain and gone ahead and canceled. Just made up some excuse-- any excuse-- not to be there. 

There’s a lot Lexa should’ve done. 

But too late now. 

Now, she’s here and given that they are set to walk in at any minute, there’s no turning back.

Lexa takes a brief pause from the paperwork in front of her and exhales while she runs her hands through her wild mane of curls.

It’s not like she hasn’t any communication at all with Raven since she left. No. In fact, despite everything that transpired in those days leading up to leaving for Cambridge, Lexa and Raven remained in touch. 

Not on any regular cadence or anything. Just a sporadic text here and there on trivial subjects. Or the occasional drive-by hello whenever Lexa would facetime with Anya. 

It really wasn’t anything significant… but still, it was something. A connection a world --a life-- that once was hers. 

Seeing Raven, though, in the flesh and blood. Here. Back in the place that once felt like home to Lexa. It’s different. 

It makes the undeniable truth just that much harder to ignore. 

Seeing Raven means that it’s only a matter of time before she’ll have to come face to face with--

“Hey, Rick. Can I get one egg and cheese on an everything bagel and a sausage, egg, and cheese on a poppy seed? Oh and two iced coffees? One light and sweet and the other black? Thanks.”

Lexa immediately snaps out of her thoughts as the sound of the voice blindsides her like a sucker punch to her soul. 

It’s her voice. 

Lexa’s heart starts to pound erratically against her ribcage as all the oxygen suddenly seems to sucks out of the room. She’s frozen. Like a deer caught in deer caught in headlights, paralyzed with from head to toe with unsurmountable fear of what’s about to come. 

Maybe… Just maybe if she keeps her head down and eyes glued to the paperwork before her, then the moment will pass, and she’ll go unnoticed. 

“Lexa?”

The voice cuts through the background chatter of the restaurant and once again pierces through Lexa’s thick walls of emotional armor. She takes a moment to collect herself, praying to whatever god is listening that she can maintain her composure, and then, with every ounce of courage she can muster, she draws her eye upwards and instantly is met with--

Blue.

A set of crystal blue eyes that have been haunting Lexa’s dreams each and every night since she left. A set that belongs a woman that at one point in time she thought was her soulmate. 

“Hello, Clarke,” Lexa replies in nothing more than a whisper, fully taking in the sight of the woman before her. 

Different.

It’s the only word that comes to mind at her first sight of Clarke in almost half a decade. Not in an unrecognizable way. No. Lexa would still be able to spot instantly identify her in a sea of faces, but there are little changes. Like how her once-signature lion’s mane of golden curls has been replaced with a more mature looking short messy bob that hangs just below her jawline. Or how her clothes seem to hang off of her in a way that suggests that remembering to eat isn’t something that comes easily to her. Or even the hints of new tattoos peaking out beneath the edges of her shirt.

But the most jarring difference is the noticeable absence of the spark of life within Clarke’s crystal blue eyes. 

“What are you… I thought… Are you just…” Clarke trails off as a definitive look of confusion sets in upon her face.

“What am I doing here?” Lexa asks in an attempt to help finish Clarke’s thought and alleviate the growing awkwardness between the two of them.

Clarke nods, unable to find her words. 

“I was offered a job with my uncle Gustus’ firm and decided to move back.”

“How long?” 

“About four month now.” Lexa swallows thickly letting her answer fully sink in. She maintains eye contact with Clarke while weighing what to offer up next. 

There hasn’t been a single day where Lexa hasn’t thought about this very moment. Where they would be. Who would spot who first. What words would be uttered and how their conversation would play out.

And true to Lexa’s own nature, she meticulously mapped out every possible word-- every reaction-- to be prepared. To maintain the wall no matter how hard her emotions fight to break free. 

But now… Now in the reality of the moment, Lexa finds herself completely and utterly lost, without even the tiniest of hint as to where to start. 

“Clarke, I--” But Lexa is cut off by the sound of her cell phone buzzing against the wooden table. She glances down at the screen and spots Anya’s name. “Sorry, one second.”

Clarke doesn’t respond but remains standing there only a few feet away, still showing clear signs of shock. 

“Hi, Ahn. Where are--” Lexa immediately stops talking as a deep male voice cuts in on the other end of the phone, spewing out a jumble of words at a rapid-fire pace. 

And suddenly, the world starts to move in slow motion. Lexa knows that words are being said to her, but she can’t seem to process anything at all. Only the phrases “accident” and “critical condition” resonate, flashing through the haze of her mind in angry red letters. And even those words seem surreal at best. 

Finally, the voice stops and Lexa simply places the phone back down on the table, not even checking to see if she hung up. 

“Lexa?” Clarke’s voice snaps Lexa back, instantly speeding up the world around her. “Are you okay?”

Lexa looks up at Clarke and is hit with a sudden sharp pang of complete gratitude. There’s just no other person in the entire world she would want with her at this moment in time. 

“No,” Lexa replies in a shaky exhale of air. “There’s been an accident.”   

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took a while to get done. Been juggling two multi-chapter fics (along with other projects) and haven't been able to dedicate as much time as I would like to this. 
> 
> Hopefully it was worth the wait and feel free to comment away. Would love to know what you think!
> 
> Enjoy!


	5. Clarke (II)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Is this real?
> 
> One minute Clarke was walking into her local go-to breakfast spot to grab coffees and the next… The next she was face to face with the one person in the entire world responsible for the irreparable cracks along her soul. 
> 
> “Clarke?” Lexa says again. This time with a bit more urgency to her voice.
> 
> “What?”
> 
> “The light’s green.”  
> \-------------------------------------------------------------------  
> Clarke and Lexa are forced back together as they race to reach the hospital.

Chapter 5: Clarke (II)

_ Where is she? _

_ The singular thought runs on a loop in Clarke’s mind as her eyes continuously scan the overcrowded cafeteria looking for a sign -- any sign -- of Lexa.  _

_ “Clarke? Earth to Clarke?” Jasper says with a mouthful of pizza. He wads up his napkin and playfully tosses it at Clarke, hitting her dead on in the forehead. _

_ Clarke snaps out of her thoughts and turns her attention back towards their lunch table. “What?” _

_ “We were talking about Murphy’s party,” Monty replies as he picks at his salad. “You and Lexa are going to be there, right?” _

_ “Of course. Why?” _

_ “Cause I’m planning on brewing another batch of my moonshine and need to know how much to bring.”  _

_ “Sweeeet. Monty Juice.” A devilish smile crawls across Jasper’s face. “That shit’s the best.” _

_ “And toxic,” Raven chimes in from beside Clarke. “My jacket still has puke on it from your last batch.” _

_ “Not this batch. It’s a new and improved formula.” _

_ “Yeah. Thanks, but no thanks. Gonna stick to beer tonight.” _

_ “Killjoy,” Jasper replies tearing off another monstrous bite of pizza. _

_ “Who’s a killjoy?” A familiar voice calls out from beyond the confines of their lunch table. _

_ Clarke eyes dart towards the sound of the voice and immediately spots Finn approaching their table. She starts to move over, making space between herself and Raven but suddenly stops as she suddenly picks up on Raven’s body language.  _

_ There’s a pedicular tense sensation radiating off of Raven, like a deer paralyzed by the oncoming headlights of a car. It's odd… beyond odd… Especially for Raven.  _

_ “Rae?” Clarke whispers sliding herself closer to her best friend once again. _

_ “I’m fine, Clarke,” Raven mumbles back under her breath, suddenly focusing in all of her attention in on her half-eaten peanut butter and banana sandwich.   _

_ “Raven,” Jasper offers up in response. _

_ Finn slips into the free spot on the other side of Clarke and casually wraps his arm around her waist in the process. It’s a move that borders on just little too friendly. A move that usually is reserved for Lexa and Lexa only.  _

_ Clarke’s eyes scan the cafeteria again, this time with a bit more urgency than before. _

_ Where is she? _

_ “I could think of a few other words to describe Reyes, but killjoy works,” Finn replies shooting an all-knowing smirk in Raven’s direction. _

_ “I’m… I’m gonna go hit up the lab. Sinclair’s promised to let me have a go with his pixel laser.” Raven says in a sudden and unexpected rush. She quickly rises from the table, gathers up her belongings in one fell swoop, and takes off through the crowded cafeteria, leaving no room for anyone to respond, let alone react. _

_ A slight uncomfortable silence settles amongst the table for a moment or two, as everyone watches Raven disappear, then-- _

_ “What was that about?” Jasper asks with an underlying tone of concern to his voice. _

_ “Dunno. Guess it’s her time of the month,” Finn responds nonchalantly, helping himself to Clarke’s fries as he does.  _

_ Clarke can’t help but take of this. Sure, Finn isn’t known for being the most attentive boyfriend. But this sudden lack of emotions, compounded by an apparent disregard for Raven -- his Raven-- it just doesn’t add up.  _

_ Something isn’t right. _

_ Clarke feels Finn’s hand readjust on the small of her back, causing a defined chill to run down her spine. She tenses slightly under his touch. Sure, they have been friends for years, and Finn has a reputation of being extra touchy-feely. But still…  _

_ “Time of month? Can you be any more misogynistic?” Lexa says, announcing her presence. She makes her way towards the table, eyes honed in on Finn’s hand around Clarke’s waist.  _

_ “Chill. It was a joke,” Finn responds, not attempting to remove his hand from Clarke.  _

_ Without another word exchanged, Lexa slides herself into the vacant spot on the other side of Clarke and then picks up Finn’s hand and forcefully removes it. She gives him a harder than needed shove away sending a clear message. There’s no mistaking it. His hands -- along with any other parts of his body-- have no place being anywhere near Clarke. _

_ Clarke breathes a content sigh of relief as she feels Lexa’s fingers ever so gently start to draw lazy circles upon her upper thigh. All the tension instantly melts away and in its place a sense of calm washes over her.  _

_ This is how it’s meant to be. With Lexa -- her Lexa-- firmly by her side. _

\---------------------------------------------------------------

“I need you to call me back as soon as you get this, O. Please. There’s been a… Just call me back. Okay?” Clarke pounds the end call button on the center console and then slams her hand against the steering wheel in a sudden burst of pent-up frustration. 

“Clarke?” 

Clarke jumps slightly at the sound of her name, suddenly remembering that she’s isn't alone in the car. Her eyes dart over to Lexa sitting in the passenger's seat as a singular question flashes through her mind.

Is this real?

One minute Clarke was walking into her local go-to breakfast spot to grab coffees and the next… The next she was face to face with the one person in the entire world responsible for the irreparable cracks along her soul. 

“Clarke?” Lexa says again. This time with a bit more urgency to her voice. 

“What?”

“The light’s green.”

“Right,” Clarke responds as she shakes away her thoughts and focuses her attention back on the road. The deafening silence seeps back in between them, filling every inch of possible space. It burns against Clarke’s skin. Raw and unrelenting. 

So many questions. Years upon years worth. All swimming around in the depths of Clarke’s mind. All desperately pleading to be said out loud.

Clarke has thought about this very moment at least a million and one times throughout the years, if not more. Always a different scenario playing out. Mixing and matching all the possibilities of where, when, and how. But this…

This has never once crossed Clarke’s mind. And why would it? It’s too unbelievable even to begin to fathom. 

Clarke let’s out a long sigh, and then she notices it. A sound so familiar yet strangely foreign. Like a random sample from the soundtrack of her previous life.

CRACK.

Clarke glances over once again at Lexa. She sits rigidly in the passenger seat, back perfectly pressed up against the seat and eyes glued to the windshield before her. No hint of emotion whatsoever to found on any inch of Lexa’s face. Almost completely unreadable… except for her hands.

Lexa compulsively cracks her knuckles again and again. Finger by finger. One hand and then the other. Almost ritually in nature. 

It’s Lexa’s signature tell for when her nerves and anxiety are trying to get the best of her.

Clarke mindlessly reaches out across the console with all intentions of taking hold of Lexa’s hands but suddenly stops herself short before making contact. She quickly withdrawals her hand but it’s too late.

Lexa stops cracking her knuckles and stares at Clarke with a look of confusion mixed with underlying tones of heartache. 

“Sorry. I—“

“It’s okay, Clarke,” Lexa interrupts. Her voice landing hard on Clarke’s name instantly triggering a wave of long-forgotten feelings deep within Clarke’s soul. 

Clarke takes a moment, swallowing back down her emotions and forces herself to produce a hint of a smile. “It’s gonna be alright.”

“I know.”

The silence creeps back in as Clarke searches for something— anything— more to say. But there’s nothing. At least not now. Not when there are much more pressing matters at hand.

Clarke lets out a sigh, runs her hand through her short mess of locks and then hits the speed dial button on the console once again.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------

“O?” Clarke calls out as she pops open the front door. She doesn’t even wait for a response before making a beeline straight for the living room. 

There isn’t time. 

It’s been a good twenty minutes since Lexa received the call. Twenty minutes with no news beyond the vague “there’s been an accident” and then the name of the hospital. At least it’s the same hospital that Abby happens to be head of surgery at. Small miracle. But still… 

Clarke rounds the corner and instantly spots O curled up under a mound of blankets, TV blaring and yet dead to the world. 

“Jesus, O.” Clarke clicks the mute button and then gives O a firm shake.

“Please say you have coffee,” O mumbles in response, still half-sleep.

“Get up. I’ve been calling you for the last fifteen minutes.” 

“You have?”

“Yes,” Clarke snatches O’s phone off of the coffee table and tosses it at her. “Check for yourself.”

“Shit,” O mumbles reading the screen. She sits up, rubbing her face for a moment or two before cringing in pain from her still fresh cuts and bruises. “What’s going on? One of mom’s mini freak outs?”

“No. It’s--”

“Clarke?” Lexa interrupts as she appears in the doorway.

“What the fuck?” O’s eyes widen in pure and utter shock.

“Hello, Octavia.”

Clarke's eyes dart between Lexa and O, immediately picking up on how O recoils at the use of her full name. “Don’t call her that.”

“Excuse me?”

“Octavia.”

“But that’s her name.”

“I know, but she’s doesn’t want you to call her--”

“Clarke!” O shouts, cutting Clarke off. 

Clarke whips around, and before she can’t even form the words to ask what’s the matter, she spots it.

There, on the TV screen, is the visual confirmation she’s been dreading ever since Lexa’s received the phone call. The one that Clarke’s been so desperately trying to let her mind go to. 

It’s the mangled remains of Anya’s car.   

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi Everyone,
> 
> We're back to Clarke's POV again. 
> 
> Just want to note that the use of she/her pronouns for O is 100% intentional in this chapter. Since Clarke doesn't fully know yet and it's from her POV, then she is still using she/her for O. 
> 
> It will change over to they/ them, thought, per person as everyone starts to find out.
> 
> As always, please comment / feedback away. Love hearing your thoughts.
> 
> Enjoy!


	6. O (II)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Rae?” Octavia blurts out in confusion as she spots the what looks to be the older Latina in the near distance. “What are you doing under here?”
> 
> “Just thought I’d take a page from your book today,” Raven responds.
> 
> “Funny.” Octavia closes the gap between the two of them, and unceremoniously plops herself down next to Raven, giving her a once over as she does. There’s an odd puffiness to her rich chocolate eyes. Something that Octavia has never seen before. Almost as if it’s the remanence of recently cried tears. But it couldn’t be…
> 
> Raven doesn’t cry.   
> \-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
> Clarke, Lexa, and O arrive at the hospital and are blindsided with the sudden revelation that Anya wasn't alone in the car.

_ Fuck. _

_ It’s Friday. The third Friday of the month. How could she forget? She’s got it marked down on every single device she owns.  _

_ Hell, she even set a reminder on Clarke’s phone just in case… _

_ Fuck. _

_ Octavia lets out a deep breath of air, she didn’t even realize she’s been holding onto as her eyes settle upon the row of gym lockers beyond her. She shifts from foot to foot, adjusting and re-adjusts her beat up backpack as she does.  _

_ “Five more minutes, ladies! If you aren’t changed, and in the water by the time I come back out of my office, you can guarantee that you’ll be swimming at least 10 additional laps.” The voice booms across the length of the locker room, causing Octavia to shudder with the added reminder of what’s to come. _

_ She forgot. And now… _

_ And now there’s no way out of it. No note. No excuse as to why she can’t participate.  _

_ Octavia hasn’t been in this situation since the that first special Friday of her freshman year. The one where she found herself in the midst of an unexplainable, full blown panic attack after attempting to change into her standard issued school swimsuit and managed to blackout. _

_ That incident had led to Octavia waking up in the school infirmary to the ever so comforting smile of her dad. He had swooped in and rescued her that day, taking her home, but not before making a quick stop for a pint of her favorite ice cream first. Cause, as he put it, rocky road and bad 80’s slasher flicks solves all problems.  _

_ And that’s what Octavia loves most about the man that she has come to call her dad. Jake just gets her. With no need for extensive questions or lengthy conversations as her mother Abby is notorious for. He never pushes or prods too much. He just knows how to be there. Like an indestructible safety net. There to always catch her when she stumbles.  _

_ Jake had started writing notes for Octavia to get out of swimming ever since that day. They never really talked about it, nor mentioned it to the rest of the family. All Octavia would have to do was mention that “the Friday” was coming up and a day before, a note would be tucked away within her backpack.  _

_ But she had forgotten to say something before Jake had left for his business trip and now… _

_ And now, Octavia is stuck. _

_ If she skips and gets caught, then they’ll call her mom. They always do. And that will just lead to another hour-long lecture about how she’s wasting away her potential followed by the standard two weeks without any form of entertainment whatsoever.  _

_ But if she stays… _

_ “Fuck it,” Octavia mutters under her breath with a sudden newfound resolution. _

_ Without another moment’s hesitation, Octavia swaps her backpack onto the opposite shoulder and takes off out of the locker room. _

_ /////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////// _

_ Ten minutes later and Octavia finds herself crossing the football field, heading straight towards one of the few true hidden sanctuaries that their high school had to offer.  _

_ The space under the stadium bleachers had been the first spot Octavia had discovered last year during her hellish first month as a freshman. At first, it had been purely by accident, having stumbled upon it while trying to escape a mandatory all-school pep rally. But soon it became her go-to place whenever she needed a breather from the social gauntlet known as high school. _

_ Octavia gives a quick, precautionary glance around for any possible onlookers and then slips under the bleachers. She drops her bag, closes her eyes, and breathes a deep sigh of relief. The familiar ambient sounds of the surrounding track and field wash over her, bringing a momentary sense of calmness with it.  _

_ Octavia knows that this is only a band-aid. A brief respite from the unnamed feeling that loves to wreak havoc just beneath the surface of her skin. This won’t won’t stop it from flaring up again.  _

_ Suddenly, the distinct sound of a food wrapper crinkling cuts through the stillness, grabbing Octavia’s attention. Her eyes pop back open and scan the shadowy length of the space.  _

_ Nothing… Nothing… Nothing… _

_ “Rae?” Octavia blurts out in confusion as she spots the what looks to be the older Latina in the near distance. “What are you doing under here?”  _

_ “Just thought I’d take a page from your book today,” Raven responds. _

_ “Funny.” Octavia closes the gap between the two of them, and _unceremoniously_ plops herself down next to Raven, giving her a once over as she does. There’s an odd puffiness to her rich chocolate eyes. Something that Octavia has never seen before. Almost as if it’s the remanence of recently cried tears. But it couldn’t be…  _

_ Raven doesn’t cry.   _

_ “Oh, I’m fucking hysterical, Blake. Don’t you know that?” Raven gives Octavia a playful nudge with her shoulder and offers her the remaining half of the Twinkie she’s eating. “You want?” _

_ A hint of a smile spreads across Octavia’s face as she snatches up the Twinkie from Raven and a bite. “I don’t get it. Why do you always have these things?” _

_ “Twinkies?” _

_ “Yeah.” _

_ “Simple. Twinkies are the most superior food ever invented.” _

_ Octavia’s eyebrows shoot up into her hairline. “Seriously?” _

_ “Dead serious.”  _

_ “They’re not even a food.” _

_ Raven grabs the crumpled up wrapper out of her jean pocket, flips it over to the ingredients and smooths it out for Octavia to see. “Says who? A serving of Twinkies has the perfect ratio of fats, carbs, and sodium needed to sustain the average human body for at least 4.5 hours. And they are virtually indestructible. These bad boys can even survive a nuclear fallout.” _

_ “So can roaches.” _

_ “But are they cream-filled?” Raven responds with her trademark smirk.  _

_ “Ewww.”  _

_ A comfortable silence falls between the two of them as Raven shifts her position, leaning back a bit to open up a space on her lap. No explanations are needed. Octavia automatically adjusts her own body accordingly, laying her head down within the open space as she has done so many times before. She lets out a deep sigh of content as she feels the all too familiar sensation of Raven’s fingers lightly scratching their way through her hair.  _

_ And suddenly… _

_ It’s gone.  _

_ Or at least It’s temporarily crawled back into the deep, dark recesses of Octavia’s core until It randomly decides to re-emerge once again and wreak havoc on every inch of her very being.  _

_ She can breathe.  _

_ How does Raven do it? One simple motion. A feather-light touch of her fingers and presto. Octavia finds herself drenched in a tidal wave of complete and utter comfort.  _

_ There’s no other word for it. _

_ Comfort. _

_ That’s always been the single sensation that Raven-- and Raven alone-- evokes in her. _

_ Octavia can’t pinpoint when this became a regular thing between the two of them, but she does remember the first time.  _

_ God, does she remember. _

_ It had been the summer before Octavia’s freshman year. Bellamy had just left for college and Clarke, having finally woken up to her blatantly obvious feelings for Lexa, was in Vancouver vacationing with the Woods family at their cottage. This left Octavia genuinely alone for the first time ever. Sure, her mom and dad were around at night and during the weekends, but otherwise… Otherwise, it had just been her.  _

_ And that’s when It had begun. Too much time. Time alone. No distractions. Just Octavia and her thoughts. Too many thoughts. Thoughts that made her skin crawl with an unscratchable itch. _

_ Something wasn’t right with her. _

_ But then, one day -- the day that Octavia thought she’s couldn’t take another single second more of It-- Raven showed up. No explanation nor reason. Just waltzed right through the back door, grabbed a slice of leftover pizza from the fridge, and made herself at home.  _

_ They had spent that day in the confines of the basement, binging on junk food and old 80s movies. Breakfast Club. Sixteen Candles. And of course, Raven’s all-favorite, Weird Science. _

_ It wasn’t until they reached Just One of the Guys, though, did Octavia notice the shift between the two of them. At first, it was beyond subtle. Somehow Raven had mysteriously moved closer on the couch, closing the gap. Not close enough that they were touching but still... _

_ Still, it was different. _

_ “You could pull that off.” The comment came so seamlessly out of Raven’s mouth that, as first, Octavia almost missed it. Just another throwaway comment of mindless commentary.  _

_ But it wasn’t.  _

_ Raven’s fingers casually made their around a loose lock of Octavia’s jet black hair, twirling it in a slow, rhythmic pattern. “Ripped jeans, button-down shirt, skinny black tie. Yeah. You could definitely pull that off, Blake.” _

_ “You think?” _

_ “Oh, I know. But you’d have to cut this off.” Raven, then switched to lightly scratching her fingers through Octavia’s hair and like clockwork, Octavia found herself hit with the sudden overwhelming urge to lay down in Raven’s lap. She attempted to fight it for a brief moment, slightly terrified of the unspoken boundary she would be crossing by doing so, but then swallowed down her fears and just let go. _

_ And to Octavia’s surprise, it was met with nothing but warmth. Raven shifted her body, welcoming Octavia’s head in her lap and continued to run her fingers through the younger girl’s hair.  _

_ “Eh. I dunno Rae.” _

_ “You should do it. You’d look freakin’ hot.”  _

_ A hint of a smile spread across Octavia’s face and for the first time in forever, she felt completely and utterly comfortable. She felt at home.  _

_ “I’ll think about it.” _

_ After that day, Raven seemed to always be around the Grifin house. More than she usually was. And Octavia couldn’t help but love it. There was a natural ease between the two of them. A rhythm of sorts. As if… _

_ As if life was merely meant to be this way.  _

_ The two of them. _

_ “So you coming to Murphy’s tonight?” Raven’s voice snaps Octavia out of her thoughts and back into the moment.  _

_ “Clarke mentioned it, but I--” _

_ “But what? Got somewhere better to be?” _

_ “No,” Octavia quietly replies with a bit of a defensive bite to her voice. _

_ “Come.” _

_ “Rae…” _

_ “Seriously. Come with me. We can be each other’s dates.” _

_ A small laugh slips from Octavia’s lips. “Oh yeah. Finn would love that.” _

_ “I don’t give a fuck about Finn,” Raven responds in no more than a whisper. _

_ Octavia jerks her head upwards in surprise, catching Raven’s chocolate brown eyes and searches for an explanation -- any explanation -- as to the sudden change in mood towards Finn. But there’s nothing there. At least nothing that Raven is willing to offer up at the moment.  _

_ “Okay. I’ll go.” _

_ “Of course you will, Blake. Don’t you know I’m the best date ever?”  _

_ Octavia gives a slight shake of her head in amused disbelief and then re-shifts her body, curling herself up even more into Raven. “Whatever, Rae.” _

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

“Check again.”

“Ma’am, I’ve already told you--”

“Check. Again,” Lexa says punctuating each syllable, hammering home her point. She stares at the attending nurse behind the reception desk with a cold, penetrating gaze that signifies one thing and one thing only… She isn’t going to back down. 

“As I told you already, she’s not in our system,” the nurse responds with an underlying tone of frustration. 

“But she will be, right? Once they bring her here,” Clarke chimes in, moving closer to Lexa as she does. 

“Yes. The ambulance radioed in ten minutes ago. They’re bringing everyone here.”

“Everyone?” A look of confusion sweeps across Clarke’s face at these words. 

“One DOA. A critical. And one stable.”

“DOA? Who’s the DOA?” Lexa's voice starts to break ever so slightly, causing Clarke to instantly move closer, but not too close. Just enough. 

“I’m not at liberty to--”

“It’s my sister!”

“Lex.” Clarke crosses the line and places her hand down gently on Lexa’s forearm. The small but noticeable touch does the trick, momentarily grabbing Lexa’s attention. “Let’s go find my mom, okay? If she’s not here, then we can track down Jackson. One of them will be able to tell us what’s going on.”

Lexa doesn’t respond, but instead, sinks into Clarke’s touch, as her stoic rage quickly dissipates. She willing lets Clarke lead her away from the reception desk and towards a set of doors on the other side of the waiting room. 

O watches the entire scene unfold before their eyes, tucked away in an isolated corner of the room, like an all too eerie case of deja vu. 

Surreal.

It’s the only word that comes to mind. And even then it doesn’t feel quite adequate enough to describe what’s transpiring right in front of them. 

Lexa.

Clarke’s Lexa. The one that all but left their sister a broken mess of a human without even a note saying goodbye. 

The one that O has grown to loathe over the years as they were subjected to helplessly watch as their sister transformed into nothing more than a ghost of what she once was. 

No. Surreal isn’t the right word. But O can’t seem to think of any others at the moment.

Clarke glances over her shoulder, catching O by the eyes and mouths “be right back,” before disappearing with Lexa through the set of doors.

O takes a moment, letting go of a breath of air they didn’t realize they had been holding in and runs their hands over their topknot. They aren’t exactly sure what do with themselves. O parks their body in a free chair and immediately their legs start bouncing at a frenetic pace, fueled by nothing but nerves and caffeine.  

They hate hospitals. 

The greenish, sickly hue that all of the lights seem to cast upon every single object and person they touch. The constant chorus of machines beeping in the background. The cafeteria food that makes ramen noodle look like a gourmet meal. And the waiting…

God, the endless amounts of waiting. Unsure of what’s to come next. If--

Suddenly, the all too familiar sounds of the emergency bay doors bursting open cut through the silence of the room, fully grabbing hold of O’s attention. They watch as a chaotic blur of paramedics race a gurney across the room toward the emergency unit while desperately trying to keep the mangled mess of a human being before them alive. 

“Move! Carter! Get the cart ready. She crashed two times already on the ride here. Multiple compound fractures collapsed lung on the left side, and possible internal bleeding,” one of the paramedics calls out as they hit the button for the emergency unit doors.

“Where’s the stable?” The nurse from behind the reception desk responds, quickly jumping to her feet to help clear a pathway.

“Right behind us. Broken collarbone and few deep lacerations.”

“Got it.”

Then, O spots it. 

The tattered sleeve of a red bomber jacket with a faded Nasa patch. It dangles off the edge of the gurney, having been haphazardly cut from whoever was wearing it, but never entirely removed.

And suddenly… 

O’s world comes to a crashing halt. Their lungs claw for air, and their vision starts to blur. 

It can’t be.

But it can. 

It can because it makes logical sense. 

Lexa received a call saying that Anya had been in an accident and Anya is in a relationship with…     

“Raven.” The words slip out from O’s mouth as they helplessly watch the gurney disappear behind the emergency unit doors. They can’t seem to move, let alone blink as the realization fully sinks in. 

It’s Raven.

Their Raven. 

All O can do is stand there and stare.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so this took forever to get out and the ending is a little extra with the angst, but promise that it's necessary in order to get these characters where they need to be in the long run.
> 
> Feel free to comment away and am aiming to get back to a more regular posting cadence moving forward.
> 
> Enjoy!


	7. Raven (II)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anya freakin’ Woods. The older of the infamous Woods sister and the one human being on the face of the earth that can manage to throw Raven off of her game in a matter of milliseconds. Anya doesn’t talk. She spars. Verbally poking again and again, until she achieves what she wants.
> 
> “Reyes,” Anya says in a calm draw, not fully bothering to look up from her phone.
> 
> “Cheekbones,” Raven responds, matching Anya tone. She knows this game well. It’s one that they’ve been religiously playing since the very first time Raven step foot in the Woods house almost six years ago.  
> \------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
> Back to Raven's POV

_ Where the hell is Blake? _

_ The question shoots through Raven’s mind for the umpteenth time as she’s forced to watch Clarke and Lexa pretend they aren’t mere seconds away from jumping each other’s bones. She runs her hands over her ponytail and lets out a heavy sigh. _

_ After having spent the better part of the afternoon with Octavia, hiding out from the world underneath the school bleachers, Raven suddenly finds herself craving the younger girl’s presence much more than usual. Sure, she’s always had a soft spot for Octavia, sometimes preferring her company over that of anyone else that she knows. But lately… _

_ Lately, it's been different. _

_ Then again, everything has. Ever since that night a few months ago when Raven had drunk one too many cups of Monty Juice and found herself locking lips with a dark and mysterious junior name Echo.  _

_ It had started off innocent enough. Just a friendly game of spin the bottle between the usual delinquents and a few other randoms that went to their school. Absolutely nothing out of the ordinary. _

_ Not until it was Raven’s turn. _

_ At first, thanks to the ever-growing effects of Monty Juice, Raven had thought the bottle had landed on Clarke. Which wouldn’t have been anything new. She had ‘kissed’ Clarke a million and one times before. Usually just a quick peck on the lips or, every so often, when Clarke had downed one too many tequila shots, it would be something deeper.   _

_ And sure it was enjoyable… More enjoyable than any of Raven’s makeout sessions with Finn. But, she had always chalked it up to the simple fact that it was Clarke.  _

_ Who wouldn’t enjoy kissing Clarke Griffin?  _

_ But, it wasn’t Clarke who moved forward towards Raven. Is was an unknown girl, rocking heavy eyeliner and a ‘don’t fuck with me’ black leather jacket, that slowly made her way across the circle. Her rich hazel eyes locked in on Raven, causing a strange, electric shiver to shoot down Raven’s spine. And…  _

_ Shit. _

_ Raven couldn’t move. She sat there, muscles frozen, fixed in the girl’s gaze like a helpless prey seconds before a predator pounces. Breathing wasn’t an option. Nor looking away. All Raven could do was watch as the girl’s red cherry lips inched closer and closer to hers and… _

_ Then, it was as if someone had turned on a freakin’ floodlight within the depth of her brain, finally illuminating the obvious fact that had been there all along.  _

_ Gay.  _

_ The word flashed in blindly neon lights. A simple yet powerful revelation.  _

_ A truth, that up until this point, Raven had been struggling to put into words.  _

_ By the time the girl pulled out of the kiss, there was no turning back. Raven’s eyes had been opened and her world could never be the same. And… _

_ It fucking terrified her. _

_ “You okay, Rae?” Clarke questions. She stops drawing suggestive circles with her fingers on Lexa’s chiseled bicep and turns her attention toward Raven. _

_ “Yeah. I’m good.” Raven straightens herself up in the bean bag chair and glances down at her phone once again.  _

_ Still nothing.  _

_ Raven fights against the itch to shoot off yet another text as her fingers wander upwards and grasp hold of the tiny metal crane that’s tucked away just beneath her soft heather gray t-shirt.  _

_ The necklace had been a birthday present from Octavia. A simple yet elegant origami crane on a plain metal chain that all but screamed Raven’s style. She had found it dangling from inside her locker on the morning of her birthday with a handwritten note that said ‘Saw this when we were on vacation and thought of you. Know it’s not a raven, but figured it was close enough. Happy Birthday, Rae. I know it’ll be a good one. Love O’ _

_ They had never talked about it nor did Raven ever mention the present to Finn, but it resided around her neck nonetheless. Day in and day out. A tiny reminder of her favorite constant human being in her tumultuous life.  _

_ Her Octavia. _

_ Well… Not hers…  _

_ But maybe… _

_ The far off sounds of the front door opening echoes throughout the basement, instantly snapping Raven out of her thoughts.  _

_ “Who’s that?” Raven asks. _

_ “Not sure. Lex?” Clarke nudges Lexa in the shoulder, breaking Lexa’s intense concentration on the tv.  _

_ “Huh?” Lexa gives a hard blink, clearly not sure what was just said. _

_ “The front door just opened,” Clarke responds.  _

_ “Strange. Doubt it’s my mom. She got assigned a big case last week and has been pretty much living in her office all week.” _

_ “Maybe it’s O,” Raven offers up with a slight nonchalant shrug. _

_ “Octavia?” Clarke asks, confused. _

_ “Yeah. I invited her to tag along tonight. She seemed to be having a rough day and figured she might wanna join us.”   _

_ “Rough day?” _

_ “Dunno. Just something I picked up on.” _

_ Clarke gives a bit of a nod signaling that she doesn’t need any further explanation. She gets it. “Thanks.” _

_ “Always.”  _

_ The dull drone of the tv filters back in between the three of them as Lexa and Clarke zone back out, mindlessly spoiling each other with feather-like touches across the patches of exposed skin. _

_ Raven let’s out another sigh and then, without another moment’s hesitation, gets up and heads up the basement stairs. _

_ ////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////// _

_ “Yo, Blake. What the hell took you--” Raven trails off as she rounds the corner into the kitchen and spots… _

_ Anya. _

_ Anya freakin’ Woods. The older of the infamous Woods sister and the one human being on the face of the earth that can manage to throw Raven off of her game in a matter of milliseconds. Anya doesn’t talk. She spars. Verbally poking again and again, until she achieves what she wants.  _

_ “Reyes,” Anya says in a calm draw, not fully bothering to look up from her phone.  _

_ “Cheekbones,” Raven responds, matching Anya tone. She knows this game well. It’s one that they’ve been religiously playing since the very first time Raven step foot in the Woods house almost six years ago.  _

_ “Sexiled?”  _

_ “No. Just taking a break from the mad orgy down there.” Reyes makes her way to the fridge, trying her best not to pay Anya any more attention than she needs to. It’s a move. A deliberate and obvious one.  _

_ “Hairboy finally learned to share his toys with others?” Anya asks with the slightest rise of her eyebrows. Her classic tell. One that Raven has learned throughout the years to watch for. Anya has the itch to play. “Interesting.” _

_ Raven visibly bristles at the mention of Finn’s name. _

_ Shit. _

_ A wave of instant regret washes over Raven. She doesn't need to turn around to know that a small but noticeable cherisher smirk is crawling its way across Anya’s lips.  _

_ “Or is Hairboy not in the picture anymore?” _

_ Raven takes a deep breath as her hand grips tighter around the door of the refrigerator. A thick, suffocating silence settles within the kitchen. It’s her move. And she needs to make it before Anya catches on. Before… _

_ “Hello?” Octavia’s voice cuts through the kitchen bringing an immediate sense of physical relief to every inch of Raven’s body.  _

_ “Thank fucking god,” Raven mutters under her breath as she grabs a bottle of water and shuts the fridge. She turns around just as Octavia make her way into the kitchen and greets the younger girl with one of her signature, cocky grins. “You made it. Was beginning to worry we were gonna have to send out a search party or something.” _

_ “Sorry. I wasn’t sure about what to wear and--” _

_ “And you dragged your heels for a good 25 minutes before deciding to raid Bell’s wardrobe?” Raven says finishes Octavia’s sentence with the greatest of ease. Her eyes can’t help but give Octavia a once over, pausing to appreciate just how perfectly Bell’s skinny gray jeans and faded Led Zeppelin henley exemplify Octavia’s nature androgynous features as her mind starts to head towards those ever-tempting thoughts. Thoughts that Raven knows she shouldn’t have. Especially about Octavia. But it’s practically impossible not to. _

_ Not when she looks like that. _

_ “Yeah. Sorta,” Octavia replies, shifting a bit from foot to foot, shoving her hands deeper into the back pockets of her jeans as she does. “Where’s Clarke and Lexa?” _

_ “Downstairs.” _

_ “Cool.” Octavia gives a slight nod and then without another word, ducks back out of the kitchen, leaving Raven once again alone with Anya.  _

_ The silence seeps back in between the two of them for a moment or two as Raven’s mind lingers on her Octavia fueled thoughts, then-- _

_ “Careful, Reyes. Your gay is showing,” Anya says with a strange underlying sense of knowing to her voice. She slips out of her chair, tucks her phone in her pocket, and gives Raven a parting wink before making her way out of the kitchen.  _

_ Checkmate.   _

_ “Fuck,” Raven exhales once Anya is out of sight and races her hands over her ponytail in a burst of undiluted frustration.  _

_ Anya freakin’ Woods. _

_ ////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////// _

Crying.

Anya’s crying. 

Anya doesn’t cry. Never. Not even when she accidentally broke her wrist in four places last summer at the Roadhouse pub. 

Oh god… Why is Anya crying?

The question flashes across the blurred mess of jumbled lights and sounds within her mind for the briefest of moments, but before Raven can even attempt to form the words, a blanket of darkness falls upon her once again.

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Lightning. 

A bolt of freaking lightning. 

Raven’s mouth opens to scream as every nerve in her body ignites at once but no sounds come out. 

“Clear.”

“Got a pulse.” 

“Good. Push another round of atropine.”

All Raven can do is helplessly stare up at the semi-blurry blob like images above her move in a strange, frenetic dance. Tears flow freely down her cheeks, cutting a clear definitive path against her olive complexion. 

What the hell’s happening? 

Why is her body on fire? 

Raven’s mind gropes at the array of questions as they fly in and out of her consciousness, utterly desperate to hold onto one long enough to fully grasp the truth behind it.  

“What’s her name again?”

“Rae… Raven… It’s Raven,” Anya’s voice cuts through the sea of Raven’s fragmented thoughts, so fragile and broken. 

“Okay good… Raven… Raven, can you hear me? Can you feel my hand? I need you to squeeze my fingers if you can hear me?”

Raven tries to locate the part of her brain that controls her motor functions but comes up short. Nothing seems to work. She tries again… and again… and again…

“Raven? Raven, stay with me… Shit. She’s coding again. Get the paddles ready…” 

Raven battles harder against her failing body as the darkness starts to creep in, slowly invading every inch of her consciousness. She needs to give them a sign -- any sign -- that she’s still there. That there’s still life in her. 

But the darkness continues to spread. Blanketing everything it touches with its dense nothingness. A black sea that stretches beyond infinity. It inches closer and closer, only milliseconds away from consuming the whole of Raven.

“Clear!”

Unable to fight it any longer, Raven simply gives in and lets the darkness swallow her whole.

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Beep.

Beep.

Beep.

The steady beacon of sound breaks through the darkness of Raven’s mind, awakening her synapses once again. Unlike before, though, there’s a pedicular sense of clarity. As if the lights have been suddenly flipped on in the dark expanse and finally the stray bits and pieces merge together, forming one holistic picture. A terrifying yet decipherable picture. One that Raven needs no further explanation to understand.

They crashed. 

Rapid images of glass shattering and metal twisting pop across her consciousness like fireworks lighting up a night’s sky. And then the screaming and followed by a tsunami of pain. 

Just the mere memory of it is enough to make Raven want to fade back to the comforting warm of the darkness. But instead, though, she pushes down those memories with a hard swallow, allowing them to venture into the place where she stores all of her other life moments that she doesn’t want to have to deal with. 

“I’m sorry.”

The words instantly grab hold of Raven, like a familiar hand reaching out and intertwining their fingers with her own. It’s comfort. A comfort that, up until this very moment in time, she thought was long gone. Only meant to reside in the now tainted memories of Raven’s past. 

Raven blinks. Her eyes crack open and the world around her comes into focus revealing a glimpse into her surroundings. Cold and sterile.  A plethora of sickly green tinted curtains mixed with a small army angrily beeping machines. Although she can’t move, she can feel the constricting presence of the numerous wires and tubes, snaking their way into different parts of her body, some pumping her with a concoction of drugs while others reporting in on her vitals. 

Raven blinks again and yet another layer of her current world reveals itself. There, tucked away in the far corner of the room, sits an amalgamation of someone she once knew and someone she has always secretly desired to meet. The human being who's solely responsible for the deepest of scars etched across Raven’s soul. 

Sure, their clothes and undercut hairstyle are slightly foreign to Raven, but nonetheless, those hazel eyes are exactly the same. The ones that have the ability to bore through her rock-solid emotional walls with the greatest of ease and strip her down until there’s nothing left but the truth. Those eyes are the ones that until this very moment have plagued Raven’s dreams. A bitter reminder of all that could’ve been. 

Raven attempts to call their name, but her voice is simply nowhere to be found. The mere effort causes another wave of exhaustion filled pain to wash over her, forcing her eyes to shut once again. It’s too much. 

Everything is too much. 

A whisper of a groan escapes Raven’s lips as she fights to remain lucid. It’s so faint that it should be lost amongst the chorus of the machines, but…

But it’s not.

Raven is suddenly aware of the familiar sensation of someone’s hand slipping ever so carefully into her own. Fingers interlacing themselves one by one, like a strong and comforting lifeline. 

As darkness starts to seep in once again, luring Raven back into the land of unconsciousness, she can’t help but think that maybe -- just maybe-- after all these years of painful avoidance to the point of almost non-existence, that they can reside in each other’s lives once again. 

Just maybe…   

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally was able to pump this chapter out. A bit heavy on the angst but if you've read anything else I've written, you'll know that I'm a sucker for it. 
> 
> Lexa's up next... which mean there will be a WHOLE LOT more of Clarke & Lexa than there has been in the last two chapters.
> 
> Enjoy and please feel free to comment away. Always love to hear what you guys think!


	8. Lexa (II)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I love you.” The words tumble freely from Lexa’s lips, breaking the silence between them.
> 
> It isn't the first time the words have been uttered between them. No. Lexa has been freely saying these words to Clarke and vise verse on a daily basis for almost the entire time they’ve been together.
> 
> But this time, it feels different.
> 
> The words feel heavy, bogged down with a hidden meaning that only Lexa knows. As if there’s only so many more times these words will be said between each other. A visible limit, making each utterance matter that much more.  
> \----------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
> Back to Lexa's POV

_ “Lexa… Lexa… Lexa…” Clarke chants Lexa’s name, like the holiest of prayers, each time with a bit more conviction than the last. She grinds down, riding Lexa’s fingers in a rapid rhythmic pattern that signifies one thing and one thing only. Clarke’s teetering on the edge. _

_ Beautiful. _

_ The lone word explodes within the dark recesses of Lexa’s mind, leaving no room for any other thoughts. It rapidly grows, filling every inch of available space until it’s all Lexa can seem to concentrate on. _

_ Clarke is beautiful. _

_ This isn’t a new revelation. No. Lexa has known this from the very first moment she laid eyes on the blond, back in 6th-grade biology class. Clarke possesses a rare type of beauty that merely isn’t contained to just physical features alone. It’s a beauty that transcends. It radiates from every inch of her very being, almost blinding in nature.  _

_ It’s warmth. Plain and simple. The kind that invades the soul, leaving everlasting imprints on all that it touches.  _

_ It’s a beauty that Lexa can’t fathom living without and yet… _

_ And yet, that’s the very crux of the problem she’s facing. Head versus heart. Love versus academic opportunities… Opportunities that could set Lexa up on the career path of her dreams.  _

_ Love is weakness. _

_ The words of her father suddenly invade her thoughts, drowning everything else out. It’s an all too familiar phrase, one that has been verbally beaten into Lexa throughout the years along with a steady diatribe of the importance of perfection.  _

_ Being good, just is not enough. Not when one has the potential of being the best. And to be the best, one must be willing to sacrifice.  _

_ Happiness is a luxury, not a necessity. _

_ Lexa can feel the every-constant mass of anxiety start to swirl once again in the pit of her stomach as she falls further down the rabbit hole of her father’s words.  _

_ “Fuuuuck,” Clarke moans in unbridle ecstasy, snapping Lexa back out of her thoughts and back into the sheer beauty of the here and now.  _

_ “Shhh… They’re gonna to hear us,” Lexa says punctuating her point with a series of bruising kisses along the slope of Clarke’s neck. _

_ “Oh… It’s… Too… Late… For… That…” Clarke replies. She grinds harder down into Lexa’s palm and runs her free hand through her wild mane of hair.  _

_ “Clarke…” _

_ “Lexa…” Clarke leans in and delivers a searing kiss, taking Lexa’s bottom lip in between her teeth. She tugs against the fleshy pulp, not quite hard enough to cause real pain, but just enough to send an aftershock of pleasure rolling over the length of Lexa’s body. It’s a signature move. One that Lexa has become addicted to. Just like everything else about Clarke. _

_ Lexa lets out a long moan, momentarily forgetting that they aren’t alone in the house.  _

_ They had snuck away, under the guise of needing to “get ready” for the night, but of course, it was the farthest thing from the truth. As soon as Clarke had stripped out of her vee-neck shirt, exposing the baby blue bra that she had fondly dubbed the panty dropper, all bets were off.  _

_ All it took was a few simple touches and the next thing Lexa knew, they were stumbling towards the bed, clothes flying in every which direction. Their moves were feverish and frantic. Nails digging into flesh and teeth nipping at key pleasure points. All signs that where they were heading wasn’t in the realms of what Lexa would classify as “make love.”  _

_ “Harder, baby,” Clarke breathes out into Lexa’s ear, voice dripping with undiluted lust. “I’m so close.”  _

_ And that’s all Lexa needs to hear. Her hands grip tighter around the voluptuous blonde before her as she throws every ounce of energy towards pushing them both over the edge. A few additional thrusts of her fingers and a well-timed swipe of her thumb against Clarke’s engorged clit and suddenly, Lexa feels them skyrocket into the atmosphere, fueled by adrenaline-laced passion. Raw and almost animalistic in nature. _

_ It’s beautiful. _

_ So, so beautiful. _

_ Lexa lets the beauty of the moment thoroughly wash over her as she slows down her pace, gently easing Clarke down from her high. She locks eyes with the two crystal blue orbs in front of her causing a sly smile to crawl across her face. _

_ “I love you.” The words tumble freely from Lexa’s lips, breaking the silence between them.  _

_ It isn't the first time the words have been uttered between them. No. Lexa has been freely saying these words to Clarke and vise verse on a daily basis for almost the entire time they’ve been together.  _

_ But this time, it feels different.  _

_ The words feel heavy, bogged down with a hidden meaning that only Lexa knows. As if there’s only so many more times these words will be said between each other. A visible limit, making each utterance matter that much more. _

_ “I love you too,” Clarke replies with a post-sex raspiness. She shifts her body, possessively wrapping her limbs around Lexa and nuzzles her head into the crux between Lexa’s collarbone and neck.  _

_ “No. I really mean it… I love you, Clarke.” _

_ “Yeah, I know.” Clarke lets out a light laugh as her fingers playfully twirl a loosen strand of Lexa’s chestnut mane. “Everything okay, baby?”  _

_ No.  _

_ That’s the answer that Lexa so desperately wants to give. To just rip the bandaid off and exposure the gory truth that lies beneath. But she can’t seem to find the right words. The ones that will adequately explain without inflicting any lasting damage to the woman she loves the most.  _

_ “More than okay, my love,” Lexa replies with a light but a reassuring kiss to Clarke's forehead. _

_ “Good.” Clarke returns the gesture, with a kiss of her own. But unlike Lexa’s, it’s filled with the underlying desire for another round. _

_ “Clarke… We don’t have time,” Lexa whines as Clarke pulls out of the kiss.  _

_ “I know. Just wanted to leave you with a reminder of what’s to come later tonight.” Clarke plants one more peck on Lexa’s lips, before slipping out of bed. She starts to move around the room, haphazardly collecting her clothes piece by piece. “You think they heard us?” _

_ Lexa goes to open her mouth, but before she can utter a single word-- _

_ “Yeah, we did! Now hurry the hell up, or we’re gonna be late,” Raven calls out from the other side of the bedroom door. _

_ “Fuuuck,” Lexa sighs dropping her head back against the pillow with a noticeable thud. She shuts her eyes as she can feel the familiar flush of embarrassment spread across her cheeks.  _

_ “C’mon,” Clarke says, reaching out and grabbing hold of Lexa’s hand. She lovingly entwines her fingers with Lexa’s and giving a light squeeze in the process. It’s a simple gesture, but meaningful nonetheless. A wordless promise that Lexa isn’t alone in this world. Not by far. “It won’t be as bad as you think.”  _

\--------------------------------------------------------------------

Surreal.

That’s the only word that comes to mind as Lexa stands within the desolated corridor, listening to the ruggedly handsome young resident standing before her rattle through a bunch of medical jargon that is all but indecipherable.

Anya is alive.

That much Lexa has been able to grasp onto. But as for the rest of the details… They are merely lost, buried within a minefield of complex terminology that is utterly foreign to her in every sense of the word. 

Clavicle fracture… Blunt force trauma… 3rd-degree lacerations… Partial compression of the C5 vertebrae… 

Each phrase builds upon the next, feeding the ever-growing mass of anxiety and fear churning within the confines of Lexa’s stomach. 

Anya’s alive, but…

But in what state? 

“Is there someone else we can call or--” 

“No. Just me. My parents moved to New York two years ago. I’ll let them know, but…” Lexa trails off, not quite sure how to finish her sentence. An awkward silence falls between them as the young resident continues to stare at her with sympathetic eyes. Lexa forces a hint of a smile in return. It’s a feeble attempt at some sort of normalcy, but it’s all she can manage to do at the moment.

“Alright. Well, the police are going to stop by probably in the next 20 minutes or so to take her statement, but otherwise, she’s all clear for visitors… Do you have any questions?”

Lexa shakes her head, still holding onto the smile for dead life. It’s a lie. She has a million and one questions racing through her mind, all dying to be asked. But Lexa’s voice is nowhere to be found. 

So instead, she smiles and like clockwork, the young resident smiles back with the false reassurance that she’s indeed okay. 

“Hang in there, okay?” The young resident caps his sentence with a light pat on Lexa’s shoulder and then takes off down the corridor, leaving her alone with nothing but the chilling stillness of the hospital. 

Lexa lets out a long sigh and runs her hands through her mane of loose curls. Her eyes drift back towards the doorway of Anya’s hospital room, staring into the dark abyss. She wants to move. To race right in there and fling herself into the comfort of her older sister’s arms, like she used to back when they were kids, and their parents would engage in their late night verbal sparring matches. Lexa so desperately wants to…

But she’s frozen.

Fear, mixed the unknown of what lurks just beyond that doorway, is in control now, leaving Lexa virtually incapacitated. 

“What did they say?” Clarke asks as she approaches with a matching set of coffees in her hands. 

“Huh?”

“The doctor. He was just here, right? What did he say? How’s Anya doing?”

Lexa gives a slight shrug of her shoulders glancing back once again at the door. “She’s clear for visitors.” 

“Good,” Clarke hands Lexa one of the coffee with a warm smile. “Figured you could use this. You still take it black, right?”

“Yeah. Thanks.” 

“Glad to know some things haven’t changed,” Clarke replies before taking a long sip of her own coffee. She follows Lexa’s eyes towards the doorway as a sudden realization falls upon her face. “You haven’t gone in there yet, have you?”

But Lexa doesn’t respond. She just doesn’t know how to. Traces of tears begin to pool up in the corners of Lexa’s eyes. She blinks… and then again… and again… Anything to stop them from falling.

A momentary silence settles between the two of them as Lexa continues to furiously blink back her ever-growing emotions and then--

“C’mon,” Clarke says with a sudden new-found resolution to her voice. She gently reaches out and without any hesitation whatsoever, takes hold of Lexa’s hand, entwining their fingers together in the process. “We’ll do it together.”

Lexa looks down at their hands in sheer disbelief as an oddly foreign yet familiar sensation floods every inch of her being. One that up until this moment she had sworn she would never feel again in her lifetime. 

It’s love.

“Okay, Clarke,” Lexa whispers back, voice cracking on the end of Clarke’s name. 

Clarke gives Lexa a reassuring squeeze in return and then starts to guide them towards the doorway. “It won’t be as bad as you think.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Didn't mean for this chapter to take so long to get out, but hopefully it's worth the wait. 
> 
> As always, feel free to comment away. Love hearing your thoughts.
> 
> Enjoy!


	9. Clarke (III)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’m hallucinating, right? You two can’t be here… In the same room… together?” Anya rambles on, ever so slightly slurring her words thank in part to the cocktail of painkillers coursing through her veins.
> 
> “No. We’re really here,” Clarke responds. 
> 
> “Shit. Rae’s so not gonna…” Anya trails off as a twisted look of sudden horror spreads across her face. “Raven… Oh god, Raven… Where is she? We were in the ambulance and… and… Oh god, please tell me she’s okay. She’s gotta be okay. She has to be…”  
> \------------------------------------------------------------------  
> Clarke discovers that Raven was also in the car when it crashed.

_ There’s something up with Raven. _

_ A major something. _

_ A something that Clarke can’t seem, for the life of her, to pinpoint, but yet still knows it’s there. Bubbling just beneath the surface of her best friend’s nonchalant smirk and unwavering air of cool confidence.  _

_ Raven will never flat out admit it. No. Clarke knows better. She will have to be the one to ask. And then ask again… And again… And possibly a few more times after that. That’s how it works with Raven. Clarke has to be the one to poke and prod until almost the point of utter exhaustion before Raven will even consider revealing any of her cards.  _

_ Clarke first learned this about her best friend back when they were in fifth grade and Raven had started showing up to school with an array of peculiar injuries. First, it was the three-inch gash above her left eyebrow. The one that Raven had said she had gotten from falling off of her BMX bike while riding to school. And then it was the black eye. Another spontaneous injury from not paying attention. But that was the first clue for Clarke. Raven always paid attention… Always.  _

_ So Clarke asked the question. The one that none of the adults around them seemed to want to ask.  _

_ Was everything ok? _

_ And Raven swore it was. Again and again. Even went as far as stopped talking to Clarke for well over a week, when Clarke wouldn’t let it go.  _

_ But, then one day, Raven didn’t show up to school and Clarke knew that the question needed to be asked again. One more time. And she was determined not to give up until Raven, her very best friend on the face of the earth, gave her the real answer.  _

_ Clarke hadn’t been prepared, though, to handle the truth behind the answer. The cold harsh truth that not everyone had parents that loved and cared for them. That protected them and tucked them in at night in the comforts of a warm bed and a comfy house. That some people were handed the short end of the stick when it came to the life they were born into. A life where they were simply an afterthought -- if a thought at all-- and survival meant learning how to fend for oneself at too early of an age. _

_ That day had resulted in an impromptu trip to the hospital where Clarke had held Raven’s hand as her mom re-set Raven’s broken and stitched her up in more places than Clarke wanted to count. And also an unspoken understanding between the two of them. Clarke would always ask, regardless of how hard the question might be. And Raven would let her.  _

_ Clarke had meant to pull Raven aside before they had left Lexa’s house but there had just hadn't been a good moment to do so. No, not between getting ready for the party and Lexa…  _

_ Okay. Maybe there had been one too many moments with Lexa. But, then again, is there ever enough? No. Not for Clarke. Lexa is nothing short of oxygen for her. Clarke needs her presence-- her touch-- to breathe.  _

_ “How the hell can someone so tiny take up so much room? Move over,” Anya says giving Octavia an extra hard nudge in the shoulder.  _

_ “Fuck off, Woods,” Octavia fires back, throwing an elbow of her own. “And I’m not tiny.” _

_ “Whatever you say, baby Blake.” _

_ Clarke glances over her shoulder at the human sandwich that is Raven, Octavia, and Anya in the backseat of Lexa’s Range Rover and can’t help but let out a chuckle at the sheer absurdity of it. “You guys better quit it or Lexa’s gonna turn this car around.” _

_ “Fucking ridiculous,” Anya muttered under her breath and gives Octavia another shove.  _

_ Octavia once again goes to retaliate, but Raven stops her before she can make contact with Anya.  _

_ “Here,” Raven unbuckles her seat belt and shifts her body, making room for Octavia. “Lean up against me.”  _

_ Octavia moves towards Raven, re-positioning herself right into Raven’s lap as she does. Raven instinctually wraps her arms around Octavia’s waist and silently signaling to Octavia to relax. The space between them melts away to the point where it is almost indecipherable when Raven ends and Octavia begins.  _

_ “Thanks, Rae,” Octavia says in a voice barely above a whisper and Raven gives a simple nod in response.  _

_ Clarke watches the entire exchange transpire through the rearview mirror and can’t help but take note of it all. The words. The looks. Even the light but telling touches. It’s all entirely familiar… Too familiar.  _

_ It’s the same underlying electricity that flows between Clarke and Lexa whenever they are in each other’s presence.  _

_ It’s love. _

_ Raven is in love with Octavia.  _

_ And it’s a more than strong possibility that it isn’t the unrequited type of love.  _

_ Suddenly Clarke is hit with the overwhelming urge to ask the question again. And as soon as humanly possible… Even if she isn’t fully ready to hear the answer.  _

_ ////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////// _

_ “Hey, Rae?” Clarke calls out to the taller latina as the group piles out of Lexa’s car twenty minutes later and onto the sidewalk in front of Murphy’s house. “Got a minute?” _

_ “Sure,” Raven replies, holding back from following Anya, Octavia, and Lexa. _

_ “Clarke?” Lexa pauses as well at the odd request. _

_ “It’s fine, baby. Go. I’ll catch up with you inside.” Clarke motions for Lexa to keep on walking and then turns her attention back to Raven.  _

_ “What’s going on, Griff?”  _

_ “Are you…” Clarke trails off as a surprise wave of nerves crashes down upon her. She runs her hands through her wild mane of blond curls and attempts to hide the growing sense of internal doubt with a smile. “Are you sure you’re okay?”  _

_ “Clarke--” _

_ “No. I mean it, Rae. This is me… asking you… if you’re okay.” _

_ An uncomfortable silence falls between the two of them as the sounds of the house party in the near distance fills the surrounding night air. Clarke searches to grab hold of Raven’s eyes, trying her best to project nothing but reassurance that whatever it is, that it’ll be okay. It always is.  _

_ That’s been the deal since the start.  _

_ “I don’t know.”  _

_ The words punch through the night, grabbing hold of Clarke’s full attention. “Is it Finn?” _

_ Raven lets out a harsh laugh and Clarke suddenly catch a glimpse of fear hiding deep within Raven’s chocolate brown eyes.  _

_ “You two broke up?” _

_ “Something like that.” _

_ “Did he…” Clarke trails off, realizing that the question isn’t the right one she needed to be asking as soon as the words start to leave her mouth.  _

_ “No. But that would’ve been easier.” Raven runs her hands over her ponytail, trying her best to mask her emotions bubbling up from beneath the surface of her cool and confident exterior. But it’s too late. Clarke can see the truth. It’s itching to break free from Raven’s lips.  _

_ She just needs to ask the right question. One that Raven can’t dance around. _

_ “This isn’t about Finn, is it?” _

_ Raven doesn’t respond. She can’t. Every ounce of energy she has is going towards keeping her walls from crumbling. _

_ “Rae, is there something—“  _

_ “Clarke?” Lexa’s voice cuts through the steady ambient party sounds, stopping Clarke mid-question. “You coming?” _

_ Clarke’s eyes dart back towards the house and spot Lexa’s silhouette lingering in the doorway. “Yeah, baby. One minute.”  _

_ As soon as Clarke looks back, she knows that she missed the moment. The hint of raw emotions is now nowhere to be found on Raven’s face. It’s been magically replaced with her trademark smirk and a devilish glint in her eyes.  _

_ “We’ll talk later, Griff. Promise.” _

_ “Okay,” Clarke replies giving Raven a reassuring smile in return. “Later.” _

_ “Good. Now c'mon. We’ve got a date with Murphy’s beer pong table.” Raven throws her arm around Clarke’s shoulder and, without another moment’s hesitation, steers the two of them towards the house. Clarke willing gives in but can't help shake the nagging feeling churning in the depths of her stomach that it's a mistake.  _

_ The question needs to be asked… And soon. Before the answer is forced out at the worst possible time. _

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

“Jesus. What kinda drugs do they have me on?” Anya blurts out as Clarke and Lexa make their way into the hospital room.

“Hi,” Clarke says quietly, trying her best to force a smile onto her face, but it doesn’t fully reach her eyes.

It's bad…  

Beyond bad… 

The kind of bad that suddenly detonates like a grenade, blowing any semblance of normality to shreds and leaving all those in its wake left to somehow piece together the tattered remains.

It’s the same exact bad that ripped her dad, Jake, away without any warning whatsoever.

One minute Clarke had been struggling to get through her freshman year Bio midterm and the next, she was flying down the 405, desperate to get across town to the hospital -- her mother’s hospital -- where her dad had been taken. But it hadn’t mattered in the long run. Jake had never made it to the hospital. Instead, he had died on the way there, in the back of an ambulance, having not been able to be resuscitated after suffering from a massive heart attack while mowing the lawn. 

Octavia had been home at the time and had the unfortunate luck of not only finding Jake but also having to be there in the ambulance when the paramedics all but formally called time of death. 

They had never really talked about it much beyond that day in the hospital when Abby delivered the devastating news to both Clarke and Bellamy. Then again, Clarke never really talked about anything related to Jake after that day. Not to Octavia… nor Abby… or even Bell. 

Instead, Clarke simply packed up the shattered remains of her already broken heart and buried them deep down inside, in a place where no one could tamper with them again. 

No. Clarke intimately knows this kind of bad first hand and all the potential damage it will bring to anyone it touches. 

“Hey, Ahn.” Lexa’s voice cracks on the tail end of her sister’s name, sounding unusually fragile and scared. 

Clarke instinctively reached out and gently places her hand on the small of Lexa’s back and instantly feels the nerves radiating off of her. She knows she shouldn't do it. That even though it's a simple gesture, it's still yet another step across the line… The line that Clarke swore that, up until this point, she would never consider crossing.

But, old habits die hard… Especially habits that happen to involve the only person that Clarke has ever truly loved.

“I’m hallucinating, right? You two can’t be here… In the same room… together?” Anya rambles on, ever so slightly slurring her words thank in part to the cocktail of painkillers coursing through her veins.

“No. We’re really here,” Clarke responds. 

“Shit. Rae’s so not gonna…” Anya trails off as a twisted look of sudden horror spreads across her face. “Raven… Oh god, Raven… Where is she? We were in the ambulance and… and… Oh god, please tell me she’s okay. She’s gotta be okay. She has to be…”

“Wait. Raven was in the car with you?” Clarke asks in stunned disbelief.

“Yeah. We were on our way to meet Lexa for brunch. Her and I. We were fighting and… Oh god… She… She…” But the rest of Anya’s sentence is lost in a series of gut-wrenching sobs as the recent memories crash down upon her. She struggles to catch her breath, causing Lexa to immediately snap out of her own thoughts and rush to her aide.

“Lexa, I--” 

“Go, Clarke,” Lexa cuts Clarke off as she ever so carefully rubs gently circles on Anya’s back. “Go find Raven. We’ll be okay.”

Clarke gives a nod, unable to find her words, and then takes off out of the hospital room. She races down the semi-crowded corridor, barely cognizant of her surrounds as her mind hones in one thing and one thing only… Raven. 

Fuck. Raven.

Of course Raven had been in the car with Anya. They’ve been together for the better half of the last four years and living together for well over two.

That’s why Raven hadn't been in the waiting room when they had shown up to the hospital. 

Clarke mentally kicks herself in the ass for not coming to the realization sooner. Sure, the chaos of Lexa physical presence is partially to blame for her lack of coherent thoughts but she knows that it isn't the only reason. 

Clarke's relationship with Raven has been complicated for years now. Ever since the brutal aftermath of Murphy's party. 

Clarke had sworn that things wouldn't change. That whatever had gone down between Raven and Octavia, was between them and wouldn't affect their friendship. 

But of course, it had. 

How could it not? 

Raven had taken advantage of her little sister… Or at least that had been the general rumor. 

It was yet another question that Clarke had never asked. 

“Clarke?” One of the nurses calls out, snapping Clarke out of her thoughts. She slows down her pace and as a young dirty blonde woman in salmon colored scrubs approaches from the opposite direction. 

“Hey, Harper.”

“Thought that was you. What are you doing here? Thought you were off until Thursday?”

“I am but my friends… Do you know which room the second patient from the car crash is in?” Clarke asks, trying not to dive too much into the details. She knows better. Harper always means well, but the girl loves to talk and there’s the strong risk that offering up too much information will only lead to a full-blown conversation, which Clarke doesn’t have the time nor the patience for. Not now.

“You mean the DUI that was brought in an hour ago?” Harper responds. “One of them was just moved to room 315.”

The word DUI catch hold of Clarke’s attention for the briefest of seconds, throwing her slightly off-guard. Part of her craves to know more. To ask the question that’s bubbling up from the depths of her subconsciousness, but this isn’t the right time. So instead, Clarke tucks that piece of information away for safekeeping. 

“What about the other? Female. In her 20s. Latina--”

“Oh her… Yeah, she was just taken up to ICU. Really rough shape. Coded a few times on her way here… She’s a friend of yours?”

Clarke gives a simple nod in response as she bites back the hint of tears starts to form in her eyes. “Yeah.”

“Ah. That makes so much now.”

“What does?” Clarke asks, trying to follow along.

“There was this person who showed up in the ER, who refused to leave the girl’s side. Wasn’t in the accident or anything, but seemed to know the girl. Gave everyone a shit ton of attitude when they tried to get them to leave and said that their mom was head surgery here. They even forced their way into ICU--”

“O…” The name leaves Clarke’s lip like a reflex. “That’s my little sister.” 

“Knew it! Zoe so owes me twenty,” Harper exclaims with a gleeful smile. “Is she single?”

“What?” Clarke questions.

“Your sister? Is she single? Not asking for me, but Zoe’s totally interested if she is.”

“I… I don’t…”

“She’s queer, right? I mean no one looks like that and doesn’t at least fall somewhere on the rainbow spectrum,” Harper follows up, completely oblivious to Clarke’s present state. “I thought maybe non-binary too, but you just said sister, so I’m guessing--”

“Harper,” Clarke interrupts. “What room?”

“Huh?”

“My friend. What room in ICU?”

“Oh. Think it’s 12,” Harper replies.

“Thanks.” Clarke doesn’t wait for a response. She takes off once again down the hallway as a new set of questions invade her already cluttered thoughts. 

Octavia’s with Raven? But Octavia can’t stand Raven. At least not since… 

The two can barely tolerate being in the same room together, let alone…

Queer. 

Is that it? Why wouldn’t have Octavia said something? After all these years. Clarke has never given her a reason not to feel like she couldn’t…

Non-binary.

That’s the word Harper used. 

Again, why wouldn’t she…

Is that even the right pronoun? 

And where does Raven fit into this? Or has Raven… Has Raven known all along? Is that why-- 

“Shit,” Clarke exhales with a heavy breath of air as she comes to a sudden halt in front of the door window of room 12. She instantly spots Octa… 

No. 

O.

O sits in the corner of the room, knees tucked underneath their chin and arms wrapped tightly around them, slightly rocking back and forth. Their eyes locked in on one thing and one thing only… Raven.

Clarke stands there, simply watching her younger sibling through the doorway, unable to move as a tsunami of guilt-laced clarity crashes down upon her. 

She’s been asking the right question all along… 

But just not to the right person.   
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back to Clarke and this time it's a bit of a deeper dive into her relationship with Raven. 
> 
> Feel free to comment away below. Definitely want to hear your thoughts on this chapter.
> 
> Enjoy!


	10. O (III)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raven sits up a bit at the underlying tone of vulnerability in Octavia’s voice. She places her drink down as her natural smirk melts away into a look of pure and utter honesty. “God O, you don’t see it, do you?”
> 
> An oddly comforting chill shoots down Octavia’s spine as Raven’s words ricochet around the confines of her mind. “See what?”
> 
> “You,” Raven states with such a simple yet strong conviction. “The real you.”  
> \--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
> O's POV as Raven comes to their rescue.

_ This is bad. _

_ Skin-crawling bad.  _

_ Octavia shrinks even further back into the wall, wishing more than ever at that moment that she had an invisibility cloak. Or at least the ability to camouflage herself. To just blend right into the hideous patterned wallpaper behind her and disappear out of sight. _

_ She’s been nursing the same red solo cup of Monty Juice for the last twenty minutes now. It’s lukewarm and barely tolerable at best, but it’s the only option. Octavia has never developed a liking for beer all that much and the one time she ventured into the wide world of shots, she wasn’t able to leave the bathroom floor for well over 14 hours.  _

_ And being sober isn’t a choice. Not tonight. Not when she is all but suffocating in her own skin.  _

_ Octavia takes another sip and instantly flinches as it burns its way down her throat. She can feel the alcohol coursing through her veins, dulling the painful itch as it does. Not ideal but it’ll do the job.  _

_ “Baby Blake!”  _

_ Octavia shudders at the sound of the nickname.  _

_ That fucking nickname… _

_ The one that no matter what she says or does, she can’t get people to stop using. Even now, after Bellamy has graduated and moved all the way across the country, is still everyone’s go-to way of referring to her. She isn’t a pig-tailed clad little kid anymore. And is in no way, shape, or form anything like her older brother.  _

_ Octavia down yet another gulp of the Monty Juice as she spots John Murphy emerging from the vast cesspool of raging hormones and Axe body spray. He makes a beeline straight for her, flashing a Joker-style smile as he does.  _

_ “Hi, Murphy,” Octavia mutters.  _

_ Murphy leans in, invading every single inch of Octavia’s personal space and clinks his half-empty beer bottle against her cup in a pseudo cheers. “Never thought I’d see the day.” _

_ Octavia gives the tiniest of shrugs in response. She curls her body inwards as the itch begins to grow again. There’s no fucking escape. _

_ “Does your big brother know you’re here?”  _

_ “He’s still at college,” Octavia replies, with a little more confidence to her voice. _

_ “How about Clarke?” _

_ “Who’d you think I came with?” Octavia shifts to the left, only to have Murphy match her move. His smile grows wider, fueled solely by the half dozen beers he has already consumed. _

_ “Ouch. Hostile much?” Murphy takes a long swig of his beer, downing the rest the bottle with one definitive swallow. ”And here I was all happy that you finally graced us with your presence.” _

_ “I’ve been to your house before, Murphy.” _

_ Murphy moves even closer as his eyes slowly scan over every inch of Octavia’s body. “I’ve seen that before.” _

_ “What are you talking about”? Octavia squirms under Murphy’s drunken gaze. Her hands unconsciously drift toward the frayed hem of her henley t-shirt. Bell’s Led Zeppelin henley. His most beloved shirt. The one that he practically lived in during his high school years… The one that Octavia had conveniently snagged from his duffle bag the last time he was home from college and then swore up and down for weeks that she had no clue where it was. _

_ “That shirt. I’ve seen it before. It’s not yours, is it?” Murphy takes a moment studying Octavia's outfit with a heightened level of scrutiny. “It’s Bellamy’s. And the jeans too… Why the hell are you wearing his shit?”  _

_ Octavia’s skin practically bursts into flames as the itch morphs into a full-blown burn. She needs a way out. A way out of the situation... Out of the party… And most importantly, out of the person, everyone perceives her to be. _

_ “I… Uh…” _

_ Before Octavia can utter another word, a firm hand juts seemingly out of nowhere, instantly creating a barrier between herself and Murphy.  _

_ “You’re drunk, Murphy,” Raven says as she forcefully shoves Murphy away from Octavia and then positions herself in between the two of them.  _

_ “So?” Murphy fires back with an extra bite to his voice. _

_ “So that means you need to go scurrying back under whatever rock you came from and leave O alone.”  _

_ “Or what?” _

_ “Or I’m gonna tell Big Blake that you were harassing his little sister and we both know that means he’ll more than kick your scrawny ass the next time he’s home.” _

_ “Whatever, Reyes.” Murphy shakes his head in an attempt to shrug off the threat, but there’s a lingering fear hidden within his eyes. He starts to head back towards the sea of people but at the last minute decides to give them one final sneer. “No wonder Finn dumped your ass.” _

_ These words grab Octavia’s full attention as her mind shifts into overdrive.   _

_ Finn dumped Raven… _

_ Who would dump Raven? _

_ It’s Raven Reyes.  _

_ Raven’s a one in a million type of person. There are hundreds of people who would die for the chance to date her… Why would Finn… _

_ Octavia catches a glimpse of Raven’s face out of the corner of her eye and for the first time spots an unsureness there. It’s faint, just hiding beneath the surface, but nonetheless it’s there.  _

_ And suddenly, Octavia is hit with the overwhelming urge to wrap her arms around the taller Latina and provide her with all the comfort and reassurance that she can muster up.  _

_ There has to be a reason.  _

_ It’s Raven. _

_ “You alright?” Raven asks turning back towards Octavia.  _

_ “Yeah… I guess…” Octavia replies as she self-consciously adjusts her shirt.  _

_ “Hey.” Raven reaches out and ever so gently nudges Octavia’s chin upward with her fingertips until they are eye to eye with one another. A warm smile spreads across Raven’s face. “Don’t let Murphy get to you, okay? You look freakin’ hot.”  _

_ Octavia can’t help but match Raven with a smile of her own. “Yeah?” _

_ “Oh yeah. Without a doubt. You’re the second hottest person here, Blake.”  _

_ “Second?” Octavia asks with a slight raise of her eyebrow. _

_ “Well, naturally I’m the first. But you’re a pretty damn close second.”  _

_ “You’re unbelievable.” Octavia shakes her head in amusement. She takes another swig from her cup and attempts to hide the immediate grimace from the after taste.  _

_ Raven snatches the cup out of Octavia’s hand and inspects it. “Monty Juice? You seriously shouldn’t be drinking this shit.” _

_ “Why? Cause I’m too young?”  _

_ “No, cause it’s one step up from chugging lighter fluid.” Raven sets it down on a nearby table and then proceeds to take hold of Octavia’s hand. Before Octavia can process what’s going on, she finds herself being led through the crowd by Raven.  _

_ “Hey. Where are we--” Octavia trails off, too preoccupied with having to zigzag through the dense, sweaty crowd to finish her sentence. But she doesn’t need to. A second later, Raven makes a sharp left, straight towards a non-conspicuous door and without any explanation whatsoever, pulls them both inside of it. _

_ “What is this place?” Octavia asks as she collects her bearings and takes a good look around. By first glance, the room appears to to be a study of sorts with large leather furniture and floor to ceiling bookcases.  _

_ Raven makes a beeline for the farthest bookcase and starts to finger the books, clearly looking for something specific. “This is the off-limits room. Or, as your sister and I discovered last year, the place where Murphy’s folks hide the good stuff.” _

_ Raven pulls on a book and the entire shelf swings open to reveal and a hidden array of expensive looking bottles of alcohol. She snatches some nearby glass tumblers, then grabs a half-full bottle of whiskey and pours two generous portions.  _

_ “But won’t they know someone’s been in here?” Octavia asks as she takes one of the glasses from Raven. _

_ Raven gives a shrug of the shoulders. “Murphy’s problem. Not ours. Besides, if you’re gonna drink, it might as well be high-quality shit and not one of Monty’s concoctions.”  _

_ A comfortable silence falls between the two of them as they settle down next to one another on the leather couch, bodies naturally entwining like headphone cords.  _

_ “Rae?” _

_ “Yeah?” Raven asks taking a long sip of whiskey. _

_ “Did you mean what you said? About my outfit. That I look… look hot?” _

_ Raven lets a playful chuckle slip out. “Second hottest.” _

_ “Raven…” _

_ Raven sits up a bit at the underlying tone of vulnerability in Octavia’s voice. She places her drink down as her natural smirk melts away into a look of pure and utter honesty. “God O, you don’t see it, do you?” _

_ An oddly comforting chill shoots down Octavia’s spine as Raven’s words ricochet around the confines of her mind. “See what?” _

_ “You,” Raven states with such a simple yet strong conviction. “The real you.” _

_ Suddenly… Octavia can’t breathe. It’s as if her lungs have all but forgotten how to function. All she can manage to do is stare at Raven’s all-knowing smile as millions of thoughts fight for dominance in the forefront of her consciousness.   _

_ Raven knows about it. _

_ But how? _

_ How can Raven know when she isn’t even 100% sure of what “it” really is? _

_ Just as a wave of panic starts to crash down upon Octavia, she feels Raven’s hands delicately cup her cheeks and her thumb brush away the stray tear that has appeared seemingly out of nowhere.  _

_ “Rae, I--” _

_ “Raaaaaaaaveeeeeen! Where are yooooouuuuu? We’re up on the table, and I need my most favoritest beer pong partner!” Clarke’s tipsy voice cuts through the stillness of the room, instantly pulling both Raven and Octavia back into reality.  _

_ Octavia straightens herself up and quickly wipes the hint of tears from her eye. “Sounds like party girl Griffin has made an appearance.”  _

_ “God help us all,” Raven responds with a laugh. She gets up off of the couch and then extends her hand to Octavia, pulling her up to her feet with the greatest of ease. “C’mon. Let’s go before Griffin gets up close and personal with Señor Cuervo.” _

_ Octavia puts her drink down and follows Raven back out of the room, never once letting go of her hand. _

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

“Octavia Marie Blake! What in God’s name are you doing in here?” 

O startles awake as the sound of Abby’s whisper of a yell as it cut through the silence of the room. They instantly shudder with discomfort. 

That name.

That’s not their name.

It hasn’t been their name for a long time now.

But not that it matters. No why would it? Those things never seem to matter. Not to the woman they have come to consider a second mother.

“Hi, Mom,” O whispers back. They push their body back up into the rigid hospital chair and rub their hands over the back of their head, trying to shake the sleep away. 

Abby looms in the doorway without a trace of readable emotions upon her face. She stares at O for what seems like an eternity and then--

“Where the hell have you been.”

“Here.”

“I’m not joking, Octavia,” Abby fires back. She takes a step into the room, making sure to shut the door behind her as she does and then locks eyes with O. 

And all O can do is shrink back into the confines of the chair, wanting nothing more than to disappear into nothingness… Maybe even from existence all together.   

“Three weeks! Three weeks I’ve been looking for you. No texts. No calls. Not even an email to say you’re alive… And then… Then, I have to find out from Lincoln that you’ve not only moved out of your apartment, but you also up and dropped out of school?”

“Mom, I--”

“No. Don’t give me another one of your half-ass excuse, Octavia. I’m sick of it… All of it. You clearly don’t give a damn about your life or your future,” Abby cuts O off, raising her voice now to full volume. 

“Mom, you don’t--” 

“Don’t want? Huh, Octavia? Don’t understand? Oh, I more than understand. You’ve had a death wish ever since… And what the hell did you do to your hair?! You look--”

“They look freakin’ hot,” a voice croaks out, thick and raspy. It grabs hold of O, like a much-needed shot of hope straight into the depth of their darkened heart. 

And suddenly…

They can breathe again. 

“Rae?” O whips around and instantly spots Raven’s chocolate brown eyes staring back at them. 

“The one and only,” Raven responds with a hint of her trademark smirk. It’s apparent that she’s in pain, but attempts to mask it nonetheless. 

“Raven, honey. How are you feeling?” Abby instantly shifts into doctor mode, moving straight towards Raven and begins to check her vitals. 

“Like I was hit by a car.” Raven winces from the poking and prodding as she actively fights back the tears that are forming in the corner of her eyes. 

“Funny.”

“Oh, I’m hysterical. Thought you knew that?” 

Abby shakes her head in sheer disbelief. “I’m going to go get Dr. Jackson so we can to a more thorough exam, but in the meantime, do you need anything?”

“Drugs,” Raven answers a little too quickly. 

“Coming right up.” Abby gives her a lovingly squeeze on the shoulder and then turns her attention back towards O. “And you… I’m not done with you. Got it? You are to go nowhere. You hear me, Octavia?” 

“Mama G?” Raven calls out. “Can you do me one more thing?”

“Sure, sweetheart.”

“Stop calling them Octavia. That’s not their name,” Raven says as she flashes O an all-knowing smirk.  

Another shot.

This time its love. 

It explodes into their heart, radiating a long-forgotten sense of warm and total acceptance throughout every inch of their very being. 

Raven.

It’s always been Raven.

The one person who has seen them all along.

Thrown off guard, Abby’s eyes briefly ping-pong between O and Raven, waiting for some sort of follow-up explanation, but only receives silence in return. She lets out a frustrated sigh and then starts to head back out of the room. “I’m going to go talk to the nurse and see if I can get you another round of pain meds.”

The door shuts behind Abby, leaving O and Raven alone together, eyes locked in, studying every inch… every hint of conflicting emotions. It’s intense yet strangely comforting.

“Hi,” O whispers, voice quivering.

“Hi, O.” Raven pauses for a moment, almost as if she’s internally debating her next words and then her smirk widens into a heart-warming smile. “It’s nice to finally meet you… The real you.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm more than a bit of a sucker for these two and promise there's a real conversation between the two of them to come in the next few chapters. 
> 
> As always, feel free to leave your thoughts / comments below.
> 
> Enjoy!


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